


Helgafjell

by themantlingdark



Series: Gemini [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: 16 chapters were posted together in one lump here to save time.please don't comment or repost.





	Helgafjell

**Author's Note:**

> 16 chapters were posted together in one lump here to save time.
> 
> please don't comment or repost.

1 Destruction

 

“Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“A potion.”

“Loki.”

Loki laughs.

“It's water from Hvergelmir. And honey to counter the bitterness. It's what I used the last time I went to Muspelheim. It will keep the heat from wearing on us.”

Thor nods and tips the vial into his mouth, then shivers.

“Ready?” Loki asks.

“Aye.”

Loki wards them from the Fire Giants' sight, slings his bag over his shoulder, takes Thor's hand, and calls to the Bifrost. They nod at Heimdall before slipping through the wall of the orb once more and arriving in the orange glow of Muspelheim. They can feel the drafts of air moving over their cheeks but the potion keeps them from sensing the heat. Loki looks ill anyway.

“All right?” Thor asks. 

“Not really,” Loki laughs weakly.

“Is the potion not working?” 

“The problem isn't with the potion,” Loki sighs. “It's me. In my head. The memory. Molten things under my skin. I suppose I could use another potion to get rid of the thoughts, but if Thanos becomes a nuisance again I'll need that knowledge. Don't want to risk it.” 

Thor nods.

“I'll bring rain for you when we get home. And take you swimming,” Thor promises.

Loki smiles faintly and they skid and scramble up the slope of the volcano. 

“Do you think we could make snow in summer? If I called rain and you chilled the wind?”

“I don't see why not,” Loki says.

Thor hums, smiling.

When they stand at the lip of the volcano, Loki opens his bag. In it, he has Thanos's gauntlet, disassembled. The six stones are out of their settings and each sits in its own box. The golden glove is in a leather pouch. Loki takes one of the stones out and tosses it into the lava, thirty feet below them, watching closely. It dissolves and he lets out a shaky breath of relief. He repeats the process on the other stones, saving the largest stone – power – for last. Loki tosses this final gem dead center down the mouth of the volcano and he and Thor shout as its trajectory contorts impossibly. The stone curves back toward them and lands on a ledge directly below their feet, mere inches from the lava, a full nine yards from where it should have fallen. It sits there, mocking them.

“How?” Thor boggles.

“I have no idea,” Loki admits, eyebrows fully extended.

“Shit.”

“Indeed,” Loki sighs.

Thor takes Mjolnir from his belt and Loki calls ice to his hands.

“What do you think you're doing?” Thor asks.

“You can carry me and I'll grab the stone,” Loki explains, frowning as though it's obvious and sensible and actually going to happen.

Thor snorts.

“You're not going in there.”

“The stone will burn you, Thor. The potion only protects from the heat of the air against our skin. It does nothing to ward off solid forces.”

Thor shrugs.

“You're not going.”

“Idiot,” Loki mutters, and casts wards on Thor's left hand.

“Shall I bring it up, or drop it into the center?”

“Bring it up. I don't trust throwing it again,” Loki answers.

Thor spins Mjolnir and drops into the volcano. Loki steps back and thinks very hard about not vomiting. And then Thor is beside him, tossing the stone up in his hand again and again and chanting “hot hot hot..." 

“Set it on the ground, you dolt,” Loki gripes, trying to conceal his relief.

Thor puts the stone between their feet and Loki encases it in ice, which hisses and cracks for several minutes until the stone has cooled. Loki picks it up cautiously and stares at it.

“Put us over by that lava flow,” Loki murmurs and Thor gives him a dubious look.

“Not too close,” Loki concedes.

Thor sets them down a dozen yards from it and they walk closer. Loki looks green. Thor spots Fire Giants in the distance and lets himself stare for a moment. He has seen them so rarely, and never without their knowledge of his gaze.

“What shall we do?” Thor asks.

“We'll have to set it on the surface of the lava. Possibly push it under.”

They approach the glowing river and Loki calls ice to his hand. He's sweating. Streams of it are pouring from his forehead and upper lip, and Thor knows they can't feel the heat right now, so that's not the cause. Loki reaches down toward the lava, ice melting and hissing as his hand gets closer. The stone resists. It's like trying to push the positive ends of two magnets together. His fist shakes and Thor grabs him by the waist and pulls him back from the edge.

“It's still fighting me,” Loki pants.

Thor nods and takes the stone, he gets closer, thanks to his brute strength, but still the gem pushes against his hand.

“Hmphh,” Thor says.

“Quite.”

Thor bites his lip and takes Mjolnir up again. He tosses the stone gently up and down in his hand, going a bit higher with each throw, gauging whether or not it will oppose this action. When he's satisfied that it will behave predictably he pulls his hammer back, tosses the stone and smashes it with Mjolnir's head, shooting it down into the lava. It sticks there on the surface and Thor sets the flat top of the hammer on it, pushing it down. They see the colorful rivulets made by the melting jewel streaming out from beneath Mjolnir's stubborn head.

“Like a bloody shuttlecock,” Loki gasps, and Thor looks up, grinning.

Loki takes out the gauntlet itself and Thor grabs it from him. It doesn't resist at all. He dips the tip into the lava and when he pulls it up everything that was submerged is already gone. Melted away. Just gold, then, Loki realizes, slightly disappointed. Thanos is so foolish it's frightening. To fail to reinforce the housing of the stones is an oversight Loki finds inexcusable and unforgivable. He had hoped for some wards to unravel. He likes undoing magic. It's how he learns best. Taking a thing apart and then putting it back together.

Thor slowly feeds the glove into the molten rock until it melts away to nothing, then rises and joins Loki, who still looks peaky.

“Home?” Thor asks, and Loki is wrapped around him, nodding enthusiastically, before Thor can blink.

Thor hugs him tight and calls to the Bifrost. He attempts a reassuring smile as he gives their greetings to Heimdall, but the effect is slightly dampened by Loki's efforts to clamber up Thor's body like it's a tree.

"Where shall we swim?” Thor asks.

“The stream,” Loki murmurs, as though there's only one, but Thor knows where means.

They've been swimming here for as long as they've known how. Frigga took them to this same spot to teach them. It's shallow and clear. The water tastes faintly of stone and only reaches their navels at its deepest. Spring-fed and always cold. It runs from the foothills of the mountains and out through quiet meadows. Then it broadens to a lake that a pair of beavers made when they dammed it, and the remainder trickles out into the sea.

They took to the water readily. The heat of Asgard's summers provided some motivation, but they both loved the way swimming echoed their dreams of flight. The spring-water rushing over their skin as though it was the wind, their tiny bodies borne up by the current and the breaths held in their lungs. Frigga would wear a thin linen dress that clung to her in the stream and let the color of her skin come through. They would wrap long sashes around their waists and she would use them to hold her boys up as they practiced their strokes, looking like a statue of judgment, weighing the princes as they wiggled beneath her hands. She spoiled them and let them swim all day, bringing a picnic basket, knowing they were never going to make it back for lunch. They all went home home as shriveled as old men. 

The grass crunches beneath their feet, bleached by winter and frosted with snow. The stream still flows, too swift to freeze. Loki is eying the water hungrily, stripping to his skin with seidr before striding into the river. Thor raises Mjolnir and pulls a storm down from the peaks of the mountains. Loki doesn't have to chill the air: it's already cold enough to turn the drops to snowflakes. Thor doesn't stop. The sky fills and darkens over them until the clouds seem close enough to touch. They're lit by flashes of lightning that exaggerate their curves and reveal the swells and turns of the snow as it's tossed by the wind. They can feel the ground and the riverbed shake under their toes with the thunder. Loki lies down with his head pillowed on the grassy bank and lets the water run its cool fingers over him. He stares up at the storm Thor called for him. Thunder and snow, he thinks. It's us. This is what we are.

Thor tugs off his own boots, lets his vest fall, and wrestles his tunic over his head.

“It's freezing, love. You don't have to get in.”

Thor looks up from undoing his laces, expression puzzled. And Loki realizes that what he has just said makes no sense to Thor. Of course he'll join me. I'm an idiot, Loki thinks, and the revelation goes through his blood like wine. He smiles and beckons Thor with his fingers, poking them up through the swirling stream.

The water hits Thor's skin and his eyes go wide. He lets out a little yip when it reaches his thighs. Loki laughs and smirks. Thor opts to plunge in up to his neck in one swift drop. He shivers, but he's smiling. Loki rewards this senseless and unnecessary display of loyalty by swimming over and climbing onto Thor, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. Thor hums his approval and cups Loki's ass with his hands, which are still warm, which Loki finds ridiculous. And perfect. He leans back to watch the lightning catch in Thor's eyes, making them flash an impossible blue. This is what a god looks like, Loki thinks.

The effects of the potion have nearly faded and Loki remembers to remove the wards he placed on them against the heat of Muspelheim and the sight of the Fire Giants.

“Shall I ward us from sight?” Loki asks, in a gap between thunderclaps.

“Not yet,” Thor murmurs from the crook of Loki's neck.

Thor still chafes at the thought of concealing this. He kept it a secret for over a thousand years and no good came of that. Loki is trying to oblige him, but he doesn't relish the possibility of being accused of corrupting Thor. Because he hasn't. There is no play. No plot. No ploy. This is his. It always has been. And, now that he knows it, he has no intention of letting anyone spoil it. He's more than capable of doing that himself, and it keeps him up nights.

They spread their limbs wide and stretch out on their backs to let the current carry them all the way down to the lake, where Thor punches a little track through the ice to let them swim laps. The storm remains behind, rumbling and sending out bursts of light. When his nerves are cool and steady, Loki nods and wraps his arms around Thor's neck, standing on his foot waist deep in the lake. Thor calls Mjolnir and flies them back to the white circle of snow that straddles their stream. Loki finds the precision of Thor's storms precious in some ineffable and vaguely heartbreaking way. It has evolved as handwriting does: from a broad illegible scrawl to something akin to calligraphy. The progress reminds him that they are ancient. And that they needlessly missed out on a millennium of this happiness. He means to rectify that somehow.

They land and Loki flops down onto his back in the snow and laughs.

“We're twins,” he says, biting his lips shut and trying not to giggle.

Thor follows Loki's gaze to where it rests at Thor's hips. His cock is all but gone, and his balls are trying to join it. Thor laughs.

“It's the only part of me that has any sense,” Thor sighs.

Loki snorts and Thor drops down beside him and builds him little breasts of snow, complete with nipples.

“What sage advice does your cock give you, brother?”

“That I should find somewhere warm to put it before it falls off.”

Loki barks a laugh and his breasts slide off and crumble on his arms. He turns onto his side and pushes Thor onto his back. He builds Thor eight breasts, in two rows running from his nipples down to the insides of his hips. Thor tips his head up to see Loki's handiwork.

“You've given me teats,” Thor grins, trying to hold still so they don't fall off.

“Mmmm. I've made a proper fertility god of you.”

Thor's breasts shatter with his laughter.

They roll around in the snow like pups, pressing each other face-down into it and rubbing it into one another's hair. Soon they're gathering it up in their hands, chasing and pelting each other with it until their skin is red and their asses are covered in welts from well aimed snowballs.

When they're both panting and holding their hands up in surrender they dig their clothes out of the snow and shake them off. Loki warms and dries the garments with seidr and they reluctantly dress.

“Supper?” Thor pants.

“Aye,” Loki nods.

“How do you wish to get there?”

“Flying.”

Thor nods and Loki climbs onto him.

Thor takes them high up into the winter sky where the air is cold and thin and Loki hums against Thor's neck and sucks on it, delighted. They plummet toward their balcony like a falcon in a dive. Thor swings them around at the last moment to land on their feet as light as any birds.

They dine with Frigga, who raises her eyebrows and rolls her eyes at the sight of them. Loki's curls are a wild tangle of black from the flight and all the wrestling in the snow. Thor's hair is only slightly better. Their cheeks and noses are still rosy with the cold. They kiss the top of her head and join her at the small round table in her rooms.

“I take it all went well,” she says, and Loki grins.

“Thor did something absurd. Or clever. Possibly both.”

“It was ridiculous,” Thor admits, shaking his head. “I wasn't thinking.”

“It's served you well thus far, brother. No sense in stopping now,” Loki teases.

Thor snorts and Frigga pinches them both.

“What happened?” Frigga asks.

“We melted it down,” Thor says.

“Aye,” Loki says. “But one stone was stubborn. Thor's solution had its origin in Midgardian badminton.”

Frigga laughs.

After dinner they return to their rooms and change into robes.

They've been back from Midgard just over a week. They spent it celebrating Jul. The hunt was over but its spoils were still being enjoyed. Thor dined with his friends and caught up on their doings from the last few months. Loki joined them. He was quiet, but he was there, and Thor counted that as progress, squeezing his brother's knee and tapping his foot under the table. Loki gets along with Volstagg best, though they're nearly nothing alike. The warrior is too generous, kind, and forgiving to have any enemies. And Loki likes his tendency to experiment. He thinks Volstagg might have a knack for potions if he were ever inclined to apply himself.

Loki has always felt a rivalry with Sif and Fandral, for they both flirt with Thor, though they have no real romantic intentions toward him. Hogun is quiet and clever and Loki feels exposed around him, so he tends to keep his guard up, though they've never quarreled... apart from that time Loki tried to kill Thor, which he tries not to dwell on, for it turns his stomach to think he nearly cost them both everything.

He wonders how much Thor's friends know. He's certain Fandral knows of his relationship with Thor, but Fandral has never been one to kiss and tell, so Loki doesn't worry about the safety of his secrets. The others, he can't be certain. He suspects the last year has left them with at least some awareness of their intimacy. Again, Loki has no cause for fear: they love Thor fiercely and will not betray his confidence. Loki has always respected them for that, however reluctantly.

Thor goes to Loki's room.

“Ready?” he asks, and Loki nods.

They link hands and they're in the Bifrost. They bow and bid goodnight to Heimdall in unison and then they're in their cave.

When they weren't feasting, they were here, working on this. Loki's magic made the labor easy. Deciding what they wanted to do took the most time. Thor hasn't learned to project his visions yet, so he looked at Loki's and then tried to describe what he wanted. Loki didn't mind: he loves to hear Thor's voice.

Loki put on Freyja's cloak of feathers and flew around the mountaintop casting spells. Magpie, was all Thor could think at the sight. Loki reinforced the rock so it wouldn't crumble on them during their excavations and he carved them a proper room. It's proportions are the same as their rooms in the palace, but the scale is smaller. The ceiling is much lower, and carved with protective runes, shining in the gilt stone. The floor is smooth and black. Loki has covered most of it with rugs he bought on Midgard. Plush Persian wool with elaborate patterns. He can stare at them for hours.

It's deeper than it is wide. There's a bath in the left wall just inside the entrance to the cave, so they can look out and see the sky and feel cool air on their skin while they soak in hot water. It's the same size as their bath in the palace: there are some things Loki isn't willing to alter. It has the same serpent fixture, too, though the plumbing is handled by seidr. There's a tiny lavatory next to it.

Loki copied Frigga's small round dining table and its chairs and brought them to the cave, putting them at the very back of the room. He has a gold pitcher and cups from his journey to Svartalfheim. He cast a spell on the pitcher to make it flow with cool water without them having to fetch it.

Their bed is oval, like Loki's, but set into the right wall, like Thor's. Thor asked Loki to enchant the ceiling above it to look like the sky. The mattress is stuffed with the shredded tops of bulrushes and dandelion fluff. The featherless Midgardian feather-bed sits atop it. Loki had to alter it. He couldn't find any oval bedding in New York. He doesn't understand it. Eggs are such an essential form. But, then, Midgard has never made sense to him.

There's a little nook carved into the wall at the head of the bed for the bottle of almond oil. Thor called it a shrine, grinning when he saw it. Loki had laughed and said the thing was worthy of one. Loki charmed this bottle to remain full; Halldis had raised an eyebrow at him when he asked her for another one after they returned from Midgard and he'd like to be able to look her in the eye again some day.

The hearth is on the right, just inside the door, and it's enormous. There's a chimney bored up into the rock above it, spewing fragrant smoke out among the mountaintops. Loki keeps a box of pine needles on hand for his potent little seidr fires, but sometimes he likes the pop and hiss of logs and branches, so he made sure the fireplace was capable of accommodating them.

He cast a spell on the mouth of the cave, shielding it from all eyes but their own and causing it to hold in the heat from their fire. They started calling the place home by the third day of sleeping there.

That night in bed Thor makes a noise Loki wishes he could keep. He wants to hear it again and again. It's a sound he understands. Bitten-off and barely conscious. Almost a plea. Saying stop, and don't you dare stop. See me and don't look at me. Something equal parts safe and frightened. Vast and helpless.

Thor is belly up on all fours like a crab, bobbing his hips up and down, piercing himself with Loki's prick on the downstroke and pushing into Loki's waiting mouth on the upstroke. Loki is bent in half, forcing his head down with his own hands to accomplish the contortion. It's worth it for the sound Thor makes alone. Loki spills when he hears it, and he's so affected by it his erection doesn't flag. Thor is getting close now. Making strange whimpers. He looks wild and desperate, and Loki wants to watch, but instead, on some unfamiliar instinct, he closes his eyes and hums around Thor's cock. A few seconds later Thor spends with a cry, legs shaking and breath coming in ragged gasps. It was mercy, Loki realizes as he opens his eyes, or empathy, perhaps.

Thor falls away onto his back. Loki cleans them up for the night and brings Thor a glass of water, which he drinks gratefully. He puts salve on Thor's throat. The angry redness of the wound has faded. It's the color of Thor's nipples now, which Loki can't bring himself to mind. And the skin is very nearly smooth. It no longer jars him to look at the scar.

Thor turns away onto his side and Loki curls up behind him and brushes blond hair aside to kiss all the bones of the neck.

“All right?” Loki whispers, and Thor nods.

Loki pulls the quilt up over them and recalls the lights he cast throughout the room. He scratches Thor's back lightly and then his fingers wander to trace the muscles that cover the sides of Thor's ribs. He's obsessed with them. The diamond pattern of the flesh. The way it looks woven or braided. Thor relaxes under the touch.

“It was... much,” Thor explains. “But good.”

Loki nods and listens to Thor's breathing as it slows.

“Why did you not wish to wield it?” Thor whispers.

“Hmmm?” Loki murmurs, half asleep.

“The gauntlet.”

Loki rouses himself a little and thinks a moment. 

“Thor, it was horrid. The ugliest, cruelest thing ever wrought. It took reality, space, time, mind, and soul itself and then used power to render them all meaningless. The sorrow that makes joy possible. All the lives that have ever been lived. The battles fought and lost. The love hard won... all undone in a heartbeat, at the whim of a child. There's no purpose in doing a thing if it can always be undone. There's nothing to be gained or lost. And our lives were not our own. As long as it existed, the realms were at its mercy, regardless of who was wielding it. Complete control. Honestly, brother, did you think I would stand for such a thing?”   

Thor hums. 

“No. I suppose not.”

Loki hmphs in agreement and snuggles closer.

“I want your cock to go down in history,” Loki adds, and Thor snorts.

“You want your cock to go down my throat.”

“Mmmm,” Loki agrees, and cups Thor's belly with his hand. “Goodnight, love,” Loki whispers.

“Goodnight.”

  
  


2 Gifts

 

In the morning Loki wakes first, but lies still, breathing and staring at the back of his brother's head. A yawn ensnares him and he stretches, groaning in its grip before going limp once more.

“May we dine with them?” Thor mumbles.

“Whom?” Loki murmurs.

“The rabbits.”

“What rabbits?” Loki asks, wrinkling his brow.

“In Mother's garden,” Thor answers.

Loki leans forward carefully and sees Thor's eyes darting beneath the lids. He realizes his brother is still asleep.

“Oh, those rabbits,” Loki answers. “Have they invited us?”

“No,” Thor pouts, and Loki nearly shatters his teeth trying not to laugh. Or cry.

“Well then we shall invite them,” Loki soothes.

“What will we serve?”

“Clover and apples.”

“Mmmm.”

Odin sends for them after breakfast. It still makes them nervous, though they know, if he were angry, they'd be long-punished by now, if not dead. They scrub themselves until they're rosy. Loki fixes their hair. They wear their best leathers and full armour and stride side by side into Valaskjalf, footsteps matching beat for beat. They bow low.

Odin hands them a carved wooden box, stained black, depicting Yggdrasil. Thor holds it while Loki undoes the latch and opens it. Inside, strapped into little padded recesses, are two knives and two cups. One set of silver on the left, the other of gold on the right. Forged and raised by Odin himself. The silver set has feathers chased into the surface of the vessel and the handle of the knife. The gold set is covered in runes. A strange gift, but beautiful.

“Thank you,” they chime, bowing again.

“A tardy gift for Jul,” Odin explains, but Loki knows that's not the half of it.

Loki sends the gift through the Bifrost, setting it on one of the shelves he carved into the wall of their cave.

“I'm going to sleep,” Odin says. “Just for a week or so. When I wake we'll begin talks with Jotunheim.” 

The brothers nod and their hearts beat a little faster. 

And then Odin sends Thor off, telling him to study healing with Halldis, who is expecting him. Thor scowls slightly, but does as he's told. Loki is glad. His brother needs the practice.

Odin leads Loki into the small adjoining library. It smells of books and ink, and the scents soothe Loki's nerves. Odin waves his hand and Loki's armour gives way to only the soft leathers underneath.

“Please,” Odin says, motioning to the chair beside his own until Loki takes it.

Odin conjures two low cups and fills them with a fragrant liquor. His magic has always reminded Loki of green wood. It feels like growth, and like switches cut to redden your backside if you've been rotten.

They nurse their drinks and sag into their chairs. Loki notices the contents of their cups aren't depleted by their sips, though the liquor is definitely affecting them. 

“If, at any point, you wish me to stop speaking, say so. I can convey this to Halldis and you may meet with her, or you may ask your mother,” Odin says. 

Loki cocks an eyebrow.

“Ready?”  

“As I'll ever be,” Loki says. 

“Your blood comes every three months.” 

“Norns,” Loki whispers, itching to call to the Bifrost, but instead he says, “Aye.”

“For about three days, roughly a month before you bleed, you can conceive.”

Loki's eyes widen marginally and he takes a deep breath and an equally deep pull on his drink. 

“Will you shift your skin a moment?” Odin asks.

Loki does so as he nods, eyes still round. 

“Now,” Odin says, “call a tiny coin of ice to your hand and set it on your tongue.” 

Loki huffs a little laugh as he cradles the ice in his mouth.

“Leave it there for a count of at least sixty.”

Loki does.

“Is it still there?”

Loki nods. 

“You can get rid of it.”

Loki crunches it between his teeth and washes it down with more of his drink. 

“It is not your time,” Odin says.

Loki's eyes search the room for the explanation that has not been given.

“When you're able to conceive, your temperature will rise just slightly, and only on the inside. But enough that the ice will melt on your tongue.”

Loki's shifts his skin again, drops against the back of his chair, and lets out a little oh.

“The children of different realms...” Loki begins, but falters, and his mouth goes tight.

“Have the strength of both,” Odin assures. “And your mother is the goddess of childbirth, lad. No force in the worlds would dare draw her ire in this.”

“Thor might,” Loki murmurs, and lets out a slow breath.

Odin grunts a laugh.

“He would be under her feet like a cat,” Odin sighs, nodding. “And she would throw him out by the scruff of his neck.”

Loki snorts.

“How long is a pregnancy?”

“On Asgard, nine months. On Jotunheim, a minimum of nine months. Longer if the child dislikes the weather.”

Loki's eyes widen.

“You jest.”

“No,” Odin laughs.

Loki curses and they drain their drinks, tipping them all the way back and breaking the charm on them.

“Thank you,” Loki murmurs.

Odin nods and waves a hand to restore Loki's armour.

Loki goes to his room and strips his armour off again. He puts on his favorite buckskin leggings and a dark grey tunic and wanders the palace aimlessly. His feet take him to the stables, quiet in the faint light of a winter afternoon. Outside it's snowing lightly. He spends over an hour brushing Sleipnir, until his coat is smooth and shining, and he filches oats and carrots from the stock room for him. He sits on a straw bale in the stall and listens to the pleasant, rhythmic sounds of the horse eating. 

I'm hiding in the barn like a child, Loki realizes, and sighs.

Part of him wants to keep this a secret, but it's a small weak part, and Loki is working hard each day to subdue and civilize it. And, besides,Loki reminds himself. Trying to hide things from Thor is like trying to hide things from a dog: pointless, because they can smell what you've been doing and they weren't going to judge you for it anyway.

Loki returns to their hall to read the books he copied from Jotunheim's library. Much of it is history, and most of that is battle. The Jotnar were more like the Aesir than Loki imagined. It's all war as far as the eye can see. The boon in this for Loki is that their violent lifestyle forced them to take healing very seriously: their medical texts are thorough. Loki has learned much of anatomy and medicine.

He marvels at the magnitude of Jotunheim's cultural shift. From mobile warriors to settled mages. He wonders if the cause can be traced to the loss of the Casket. Or if the loss of the Casket enabled Farbauti and his supporters to thrive because they had their own magic. Only Laufey had needed its power. Laufey has been dead but two years. How long had the Jotnar chafed under his rule? Loki boggles.

Loki flicks his fingers to light the lamps when the sun sets. Thor returns not long after, looking tired, but not displeased.

“I take it your lesson with Halldis went well.”

“Aye,” Thor grunts as he bends to kiss Loki's head and then drops into the seat opposite him. “You've been drinking with father,” Thor notes.

“I have,” Loki says, laughing softly.

“He didn't give me anything to drink,” Thor pouts.

“He called you back to practice seidr,” Loki guesses.

“Aye, ultimately. But first he sat me in the library.”

Loki looks up.

“What did he say to you?”

“Very little,” Thor admits. “He stared at me long and hard and then said he had misjudged me and apologized for the underestimation.”

How typical, Loki thinks. Thor is deemed flawless and I have to be told how my own bloody body works. And Odin apologized to him. He didn't apologize for robbing me of the pleasures of my skin. Pleasures I still haven't plumbed because I'm a damned novice, afraid I'll break something.

Loki sits, quietly fuming.

“I have no idea what he was talking about,” Thor confesses, and Loki laughs and lets it go. He can't fault Thor for this.

“Did he explain the Jul gift to you?” Thor asks.

“No, he explained something else,” Loki murmurs.

Thor waits. Loki goes back to his reading.

“Not going to tell me what it is, then?” Thor asks, smiling.

“Hmmm? Oh. Sorry. Yes, I will. Before bed.”

Thor nods and chuckles.

“What?” Loki asks. 

“I like it when you're drunk. It makes you more my speed,” Thor teases. “My friends asked us to dine with them in the hall. Will you come?”

Loki nods.

The table is already laden with food when they arrive and Sif waves them over. They all nod their hellos and begin heaping their plates. Loki is still visibly dazed, though he's trying to sit up straight and focus.

“Are you ill?” Volstagg asks.

“Father got him drunk,” Thor answers, and Loki narrows his eyes at him. “It wasn't even noon yet and they were drinking,” Thor adds, then scowls. “How much did he give you?”

“The cup was charmed to be bottomless.”

Thor swears.

“And you were nervous.”

Loki glares at him, but that's all the answer Thor needs.

“You drink rapidly when you're nervous,” Thor says.

“Hmmm,” Loki murmurs.

“Eat,” Volstagg urges. “It will help.”

“That's your answer for everything,” Loki laughs.

“And it always works,” Vostagg adds.

Loki can't argue with him.

They dine and laugh. And Loki does feel better. Mind and belly settled by the meal. Thor is going to resume sparring with his friends tomorrow afternoon. In the mornings he'll study seidr with Halldis.

Thor takes Loki's arm on the way back to their hall. It looks like Loki is bearing him up, but it's the other way around.

“How's Sleipnir?” Thor asks.

“Lovely. I brushed him so long I think I caught my reflection in his coat.”

Thor smiles.

“Do you wish to bathe here or in the mountain?”

“Here,” Loki answers.

Thor watches Loki in the bath. He is drowsy and distracted. He has washed his hair twice and is reaching for the bottle to do it again when Thor stops Loki's fingers with his own. Thor finishes the rest of Loki's bathing for him, careful with his new skin.

Halldis warned Loki not to get any soap or oil (this latter item she pronounced quite firmly and paused for effect) in his quim. He passed the information on to Thor.

Thor dries them off, grabs a robe from his room, walks Loki down the hall to bundle him into a robe of his own, and takes them through the Bifrost to their cave. Loki puts the daily dose of ointment on Thor's neck, drops his robe on the couch, and climbs straight into bed, where he collapses. Thor follows suit and curls up behind his brother.

“What is it?” Thor asks.

Loki rolls over to face Thor.

“He told me...” Loki starts, then shakes his head.

“What, love?”

“That I can bear children,” Loki finishes, and Thor nods, for this isn't exactly news.

“Your children,” Loki clarifies. “Safely. That Mother would see me through it. And he taught me how to gauge when I'm able to conceive.”

Thor just nods again.

“Is it simple? Does it hurt at all?”

“Simple and painless. I shift my skin, put a chip of ice on my tongue, and if it melts, it's my time. It shouldn't come for nearly month, though, apparently.”

“Has your stomach settled?”

“Aye. Volstagg was right.”

Thor smiles and weaves their limbs together, pulling Loki close and dimming the lights in the cave with a wave of his hand. He kisses the tip of Loki's nose and Loki listens to Thor's heartbeat as it slows with sleep.

“Goodnight,” Thor murmurs, breath warming Loki's throat.

“Goodnight,” Loki whispers, lulled by Thor's pulse.

When Loki wakes, Thor is drooling on his shoulder. He tries not to find it endearing, and not to laugh audibly or shake Thor awake with his chuckling.

He wonders if the charm of this will ever fade. This is still new, so he worries. But he doesn't think he could he ever find it commonplace to wake, tangled in sheets and limbs, his own cool flesh warm from the press of Thor's skin, knowing it isn't a dream. Every morning his cheeks lift in a smile almost as soon as he's conscious, realizing he's exactly where he has always wanted to be. He can't imagine forgetting his joy and gratitude at having all those aching years washed clean. At having his course forever altered.

He stares at the winter sky drifting across their ceiling and at the bottom of his vision he sees his cock tenting the sheets with its morning salute. 

Last night I told Thor I can bear his children...and he didn't bat an eye. Told him I can determine when I will and won't conceive. And we went straight to sleep.  

Loki isn't sure what to make of this. He's a bit relieved that Thor has given him space and privacy - that he wasn't flipping Loki onto his back and thrusting into him straight away. But he's still insecure about this body. Thor fell in love with one form only to have it melt into another. Part of Loki still worries Thor might not like his new shape as much as his old. He fears Thor could be masking his distaste with courtesy and care. That he might never want to fill Loki's quim with his cock and drench them both in seed.

He decides to sit on his concerns and see what Thor does. He doesn't want to influence the outcome by guiding Thor with questions.

Thor wakes and apologizes for slobbering all over Loki's shoulder.

“What's wrong?” Thor asks, seeing the faintest furrow in Loki's forehead.

“Are you well enough to resume sparring?” Loki asks, evading, but Thor likely doesn't know that.

“Mmmhmm,” Thor answers, lips buzzing against Loki's neck as he nuzzles there. “What will you do all day?”

“Read. Go riding, perhaps.”

Thor hums and runs his hand down Loki's belly, then wraps his fingers around Loki's erection and gives it a squeeze.

“It's just greeting the dawn,” Loki sighs.

“I know how this works – I have one, too, you know.”

“Do you?”

Thor huffs a laugh and grinds his cock against the side of Loki's hip. Loki turns his head and kisses Thor, tugging gently on his plump lips, letting them glide slowly between his thin ones. He sucks Thor's tongue into his mouth and and caresses it with his own. Loki can feel Thor's erection pressing harder against him when Thor is especially pleased with what they're doing. He threads his fingers through Thor's hair and nips his lips until Thor groans.

“Are we going to ignore them until they go away,” Loki pants, “or shall we take advantage of them?”

Thor tosses the sheet back and sits up. He grabs Loki by the legs and drags him further down the bed, lies down so their heads are at each other's hips, and pulls Loki up onto his side to face him. Thor has Loki's cock all the way in his mouth while Loki is still teasing Thor's foreskin down. Loki makes a game of mimicking Thor's actions. Thor uses the game to show Loki how he'd like his cock sucked.  

Thor spills, his shouts muffled by a mouthful of Loki's prick. Then he hollows his cheeks and pulls off with a lewd smack.

“Now tell me how you like it,” Thor says.

Loki draws a sharp breath and bites his lip.

“Please,” Thor murmurs, for he has learned that word will take him far into his brother's good graces.

“Tighten your lips, pull in your cheeks, hold still, and let me fuck into your mouth,” Loki whispers.

Thor hums and follows Loki's instructions until Loki is cursing and keening.

Afterward, Loki drops away onto his back and Thor sits up, straddles him, grabs him under the armpits, and drags him back up the bed, fluffing pillows and putting them under Loki's head. Then he lowers his weight onto Loki and kisses him slowly, pulling and pushing Loki's mouth with his lips and tongue until Loki is panting and pliant beneath him. He kisses and nips his way down Loki's body, eager to pick up where he left off. He sucks on the insides of Loki's legs until Loki's hips lift off the bed, seeking Thor's tongue.

Thor licks the sweat from the creases of the thighs, tasting salt and smelling musk, and Loki whines. Thor presses light teasing kisses to all the skin in front of him as Loki jerks and sighs. And then he flattens his tongue and works his way around in narrowing circles, inching closer and closer as Loki's breaths get shorter and shorter. With a touch as soft as snow, Thor presses a kiss to the soaked folds of skin in the center. Loki gasps and bucks. Thor hums and continues his kisses. He laps at the edges of the opening until Loki's breath stops and then teases his tongue inside in slow swirling stages, earning him more gasps and some curses. Loki's hips rise erratically, straining for more touch. Thor stretches his mouth wide and dips his tongue in as far as it will reach.

Thor's pretty blond head has been bobbing between Loki's legs for the better part of an hour when it occurs to Loki that Thor might genuinelylike his quim. Thor's attentions show no sign of letting up. If he isn't enjoying this, he's a better liar than I am, Loki concedes.

Loki finally takes pity on Thor's tongue and strokes himself through to an orgasm while Thor licks into his clenching flesh.

“Would you like to keep going?” Thor asks, after Loki stops twitching, head pillowed on Loki's thigh.

“Would you?” Loki counters, breathless.

“Aye,” Thor answers, and Loki lifts his head and stares at him.

“Isn't your neck tired?” 

“No.”

Loki keeps staring.

“You don't mind?” 

“No,” Thor answers, grinning, and when he sits up on his knees Loki can see a fresh erection bobbing in his lap. “We can do this all day if you wish. It's like eating peaches and never getting full.”

“Peaches?” Loki says, quirking a brow.

“Mmmm,” Thor nods. “Sweet and tart. Soft. Wet.”

Thor's voice drops low and Loki's legs spread wide. Thor moans.

They're snuggled in bed under the enormous comforter Loki got on Midgard.

“It's going to break my heart,” Thor sighs, words ruffling Loki's hair.

“What is?” Loki asks, jarred from his half-sleep.

“Summer,” Thor answers.

“Why?” Loki says, looking back over his shoulder.

“Peach season,” Thor explains.

“What about it?” Loki asks, rolling over and narrowing his eyes.

“When I eat one and it doesn't moan and twitch like you do I might burst into tears,” Thor winks.

Loki groans, shaking his head and shoving halfheartedly at Thor.

“Go to your studies, rake,” Loki scolds.

“I've been at my studies all morning,” Thor rumbles, waggling his eyebrows and disappearing under the bedding. “But I've hardly exhausted the subject,” he teases, muffled by the blanket.

Loki swats at Thor's head through the linens and yelps as Thor bites his hip. Thor heaves Loki's legs over his shoulders and buries his face between pale thighs. The loveliness of Loki's grin goes to waste on the ceiling.

Loki looks dazed. Thor is watching him from the table where he's pouring them some water.

“Here,” Thor says, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering a cup, and Loki blinks for the first time in five minutes. He shakes himself and reaches for the drink, murmuring his thanks.

“Sleep,” Thor says. “I'll bring lunch back for us before I spar.”

Loki nods.

  
  


3 Sparring

 

Thor grins ceaselessly throughout his lesson with Halldis, but he makes no errors, so she can't chide him.

Loki is still asleep when Thor returns, but the scent of the food Thor brought wakes him, and he climbs out of bed, stretching his arms wide and going up on his toes, groaning. Thor wants  a photograph of this. Fair skin pulled tight over ribs and hips, slim limbs extended, calves bunched up, and waist nipped in. He intends to acquire a camera the next time he's on Midgard.

“May I join you?” Loki asks, between bites to a pear.

Thor is briefly distracted by the juice dripping down Loki's chin and the slender finger that catches it and brings it back up to his tongue.

“Hmmm?” Thor murmurs. “What, sparring? You'll come?” 

“Aye. I'm too long out of practice. My form is pitiful.”

Thor beams.

Sif and Hogun are engaged in hand combat. Volstagg and Fandral are using blunted swords. They all greet each other with nods.

The protections they have placed on each other do not apply here. In contests and sport, they are still vulnerable. The wards only apply to war and enemies. Thor wishes it were otherwise.

They begin with a very basic exercise meant to improve balance and precision. Thor stands on a thin beam that's raised three feet off the ground. He uses a narrow wooden staff to deflect the leather balls filled with beans that Loki hurls at him. Then he swaps places with Loki. Loki has always been better at this, and Thor is relieved to find that's still the case. Loki makes it look like a dance. Thor starts counting off prime numbers in his head to distract his prick from the interest it's taking in the activity.

Next they fight with heavy wooden staves. The match will only end when one of them yields, or is rendered incapable of yielding.

Thor's greater height and weight have always been an advantage here. Loki has to use a stave as heavy as Thor's or his will break. But his arms will tire before his brother's. Two hours into their bout, Thor's stave smashes Loki's fingers where they grip his own staff and blood spatters on Loki's face. Thor gapes and stills.

“Don't you dare,” Loki snarls.

He strikes, smashing the side of Thor's head, stunning him, and then landing blows to his shoulder and the side of his knee. Thor staggers and Loki darts behind him, catching the backs of his knees with the edge of his weapon as he goes, sending Thor down on all fours.

“Yield,” Loki pants, and Thor starts to get up.

Loki rams the back of Thor's head with the butt of his stave. The wood stands a better chance of remaining in one piece this way: if he brings the edge down too hard on Thor's thick skull, the weapon will splinter.

“Yield.”

Thor gropes for his stave.

Loki gives another vicious jab and blood blackens Thor's hair.

“Yield,” Loki gasps.

Thor grips his stave. Loki bashes him again. Blood sprays over the back of Thor's tunic.

“Yield, damn you,” Loki whispers.

Thor drops his head and picks up his weapon, using the bulk of his shoulders to protect his skull. But Loki is beside him now and deals a merciless blow to Thor's right temple. He follows it with comparable blows to the elbow, shoulder, ribs, and waist. Thor curls his arm into his chest. Loki presses the bloodied end of his staff to Thor's temple again in warning.

“You cannot wield a stave with only one arm: you'll have no leverage. Yield.”

Thor nods and Loki helps him up.

The fourth and fifth fingers of Loki's left hand are a torn mess, but the bones are whole. He seals the skin hastily and begins healing Thor. He drops to the floor and does Thor's knees, clearing away the swelling and making sure everything is where it belongs. He soothes the strains in Thor's side, clearing away the bruising over the muscles he loves on Thor's ribs.

Loki was being ruthless with himself as much as he was with Thor in their fight. He wanted them to fight like enemies, or perhaps strangers: free of sentiment. He's not sure that they were successful, but he knows they can't afford to fail. There are only a few warriors in all the realms with whom they can spar at full strength. They'll never improve if they don't push each other.

He carefully mends Thor's elbow and pops his shoulder back into place, then seals the split skin on the back of Thor's head and at his temple.

“Where else?” Loki murmurs.

“My neck got a strain when my head jerked to the side,” Thor admits.

Loki nods and runs cool fingers over the stiffened muscles, murmuring spells..

“Better?” Loki asks.

Thor nods, smiling, and they both breathe a bit more easily. They notice their friends are watching them, and probably have been throughout their bout.

“Well fought,” Volstagg says, coming over and clapping Loki on the back.

Loki laughs.

“I'm not sure capitalizing on Thor's sentimentality can be considered commendable,” Loki demurs.

They all stagger to the baths.

The first time Thor brought Sif here, the room had gone silent. Thor had laughed and warned that any who objected were free to take it up with either of them in the sparring arena. There were no objections. She and Thor sat with their elbows propped on the edge of the bath behind them, chests out and heads thrown back. Loki had watched from where he was floating in the center of the pool, silently pleased with his brother's disregard for what others unthinkingly deemed appropriate. And jealous. Sif's arm was pressed against Thor's, and the whole beautiful length of him was stretched naked beside her. She wasn't even looking. Loki envied her indifference.

“Your hair is still a bloody mess,” Loki gripes, grabbing a ladle and pouring warm water through Thor's matted locks.

The water flowing down Thor's back has the scent and color of rust. Loki wrinkles his nose and keeps rinsing until his brother's hair is is blond again and the water runs clear.

Thor throws his arm around Loki's shoulder and pulls him into his side. And part of Loki wants to scream and shake him. They are not the only ones in the bath. There are plenty of soldiers and instructors recovering from their exercises. They'll see, Loki wants to warn. They'll know you love me. They'll hate you for it. But Loki realizes he'll only call more attention to himself if he objects, so he holds his tongue and sags against Thor's side.

“Are your fingers all right?” Thor rumbles.

Loki nods.

“Speak when your king questions you, you cheating snake,” a soldier hisses from across the room, and both Thor and Loki remember that with Odin sleeping, Thor is temporarily king.

Loki turns his head slowly in the direction of the speaker, raises an eyebrow at him, and drops his head back on Thor's arm. Part of Loki wants to climb onto Thor's lap and lick into his mouth while the man gapes.

“Did you poison him?” the soldier snarls. “How did you beat him?”

“Soundly,” Loki answers. “You must be new. Sif has bested him over thirty thousand times. I've bested him at least that number.”

“She's the goddess of war,” the man argues, “You're an er-” and his friend claps a hand over his mouth. 

Loki laughs. 

“Oh, I see. Surely no one as argr as I am could hold his own in battle without resorting to seidr. Certainly not against Thor.”

“Call him king.”

“I'll call him Buttercup if it pleases me,” Loki laughs, and waves his fingers.

How dare you, the soldier's lips say, but the air is filled only with the braying of an ass. His eyes go wide and he clutches his throat.

Thor snorts beside his brother and the soldier keeps braying.

“Hmmm, that's far too irritating. I thought he'd stop by now,” Loki admits, and the heehawing fades into birdsong with a flick of Loki's wrist.

“Better?” Loki asks.

“Mmmm,” Thor says.

“Perhaps we should clean house while Father is sleeping,” Loki suggests.

“Aye,” Thor nods. “You're dismissed, Brede. Do not come within three miles of my city, myself, or my brother.”

At this, the man goes silent. Loki is impressed Thor knows the fool's name, though it's hardly worthy of space in Thor's head.

Brede's friends usher him out before he digs himself any deeper.

Thor pulls Loki closer, squeezing his shoulders.

“Buttercup?” Thor asks.

“Aye,” Loki answers. “Or do you prefer Snow Crocus?”

Thor hums and purses his lips, thinking.

“Dandelion?” Loki tries. “Daylily? Moonbeam? Marigold?”

“Buttercup, after all, I think,” Thor decides. “But Moonbeam is rather nice. We'll give that one to you.”

Loki nods solemnly. They giggle.

Sif, Fandral, and Volstagg take it all in stride. Loki thinks he might have seen the corner of Hogun's mouth lift, but it could have been a trick of the light.

Loki is surprised at himself. He's proud to have pleased his brother. Making Thor laugh is one of the greatest pleasures the realms have given him. And yet. What he really wanted to do was summon the tongue out of the soldier's jaw and hold it, wriggling in his fist like a caught fish, blood running hot over his hand. He's not sure what stopped him.

And he's surprised at Thor. Letting him fight his own battle. Progress, Loki muses.

The friends dress and dine together before going off to their beds for the evening. Thor grabs a bottle of wine from the kitchens to bring back with them.

They are still shaken when they return to their rooms. Not by the incident in the baths; they're both unsettled by their bout with the staves.

They shrug on robes and return to their home in the mountainside. Loki starts a tiny fire of pine needles in the hearth and charms it to heat the whole room while Thor turns down the bed. They sit together at the table, sipping wine.

“I wish to spar with you again,” Loki says, and Thor stiffens and frowns. “There's no one else for us, brother,” Loki whispers, shaking his head.

And it occurs to both of them that that is the whole of it. The whole of their lives. The whole of what's between them.

Neither of them mentions it.

“It wasn't easy for me either,” Loki confesses. “I thought it would be. It was before. When it was the only way to have you like that. Pressed against me, wild, breathing hard and sweating. And I was so frustrated. But I could take it out on you. And it worked, whether I won or lost. You were mine when we sparred: I had all your attention. Peace in the practice arena. But then the lesson would let out and it would start all over again...”

Thor nods, jaw set tight, still hating the fear that kept him cowed for so long. The way it twisted his life into one long sin of omission and left them both to starve.

“I can't promise it will get any easier,” Loki says, smiling sadly. “But we'll be stronger, and, therefore, safer. And that will justify the cost, will it not?”

“Aye,” Thor smiles.

“And we'll make it up to each other somehow,” Loki purrs, and Thor huffs a laugh. They finish the wine and follow it with a bit of water before throwing off their robes and climbing into bed.

They stare at each other, propped up on their elbows. Thor takes the last two fingers of Loki's left hand to his lips, kissing the healing skin and looking too serious for Loki's liking. Loki pushes Thor onto his back and sprawls on top of him, silently demanding a back rub. Thor kneads Loki's ass until Loki snorts.

“Thor.”

“Very well,” Thor sighs, massaging Loki's shoulders as Loki hums happily and melts into him.

“Thank you,” Loki sighs when he's satisfied.

Thor noses at Loki's curls and kisses his neck, leaving his lips resting there.

“What about you?” Loki asks.

“Hmmm?”

“Any lingering injuries from our bout?”

“No.”

“That's a shame,” Loki teases. “I was going to kiss them better.”

“In the future I'll be sure to block your jabs with my ass.”

Loki hides his laughter in Thor's shoulder while Thor shakes beneath him.

He climbs off of Thor and sits back on his heels.

“Turn over for me, love,” Loki coaxes, and Thor rolls onto his belly.

Loki pulls Thor's legs apart and kneels between them. He grips Thor's hips and urges them up with his hands until Thor is on his knees and elbows, head resting on his forearms. Loki hums and glides his hands over Thor's skin, loving the warmth. This is how he found Thor's secret stores of body fat. They're too meager to see, but the skin above them is slightly cooler, and Loki's fingers felt them out. They're hidden at the edges of Thor's waist, the bottom of his belly, and the insides of his thighs. Loki loves to press his palms over them.

Thor relaxes under the strokes of Loki's hands and Loki bends forward to kiss the dimples in the lower back while he rubs Thor's hips. He scoots back and bends again, sucking bruises down the line of Thor's spine and out over his backside. He nips and kisses his way into the cleft of Thor's ass, listening to the little hums and grunts coming from the head of the bed.

Less than a week ago, Loki took a scrap of rock left over from his excavations of this cave and carved a double portrait of himself and Thor out of it. They're positioned just like this. Loki placed some protections on it and then he and Thor walked to the the end of the Bifrost and chucked it off the bridge. They like the thought of the little statue floating out into the stars, where all of Asgard will gaze on it unseeing. Loki said he was glad some version of himself would spend the entirety of its existence eating Thor's ass. They both laughed, and they both knew Loki wasn't really joking.

Thor is listening to the wet smacking sounds of a tongue and lips and loving the hot breath that pours from his brother's lungs and out onto his skin. It makes him dizzy. He feels weightless, like the pale hands on his hips are all that prevent him from floating up to bob against the ceiling above their bed. The tip of Loki's tongue drifts between his cheeks in graceful arabesques, skating past his hole, taunting him. Loki's tongue can tease him when it isn't even speaking, and isn't that perfect. So utterly like his brother. But he doesn't torment Thor too long tonight. Loki's tongue only dodges its target a dozen more times before Thor feels it swirling around the skin of his opening. And then Loki traces the tense little spot with the tip of his tongue, following every pleat of flesh, all the way around, weaving in and out like he's drawing a daisy.

Thor keens and arches his back. Loki presses a full wet kiss on his entrance and then follows it with a slow drag of his tongue. Thor groans into the crook of his own elbow. Loki grins and laps at the hole, wearing the muscle down until it goes slack before his lips. He works his tongue inside to try to wring a sob from Thor's throat and gets goosebumps when it works.

Loki glides his tongue in and out of Thor's opening, lips stretched possessively around it, hands pulling Thor's hips toward his face.

“Loki,” Thor growls, and Loki hums into his ass.

Thor jerks.

“Loki.”

Loki slides his tongue out and Thor moans at the loss.

“Make up your mind, damn you,” Loki says, smacking Thor's behind.

Thor crawls up and gets the oil from its little nook in the wall above their pillows and thrusts it back into Loki's waiting hand.

“All right, all right. Relax again for me,” Loki chuckles, bending to lick into Thor a bit more while he rubs oil onto their cocks.

“Ready?”

“Loki if you're not in there in the next ten seconds, so help me-”

Loki drives in with one swift push and they both groan.

“Happy?” Loki asks.

“Mmmm.”

“Comfortable?”

“Move, you wicked-”

Loki slides all the way out and slams back in again. Thor's breath leaves his body.

“Insufferable-”

Loki does it again.

“Demonic-”

And again.

“Relentless-" 

And again.

“Gorgeous-”

And again.

“Fuck... Loki... Gorgeous... Don't stop... Oh fuck...” Thor stutters, grunting praises until his thoughts turn to pleas.

“Loki, touch me... Please... Brother... Please... Oh fuck Loki yes... Yes... Tighter..."

Loki fucks him faster and strokes him harder until they're both a shouting mess, collapsing, sweat-soaked and sticky on the sheets, panting like beasts. If they weren't in such an awkward heap they'd have fallen asleep instantly. They struggle apart and clean their messes up with seidr, then rinse themselves off in their bath. Loki throws more pine needles on the fire while Thor pours them water. They drink with such haste half of it runs down their chins and onto their chests.

They fall into bed, patting each other limply and mumbling their goodnights.

  
  


4 Snow

 

In the morning, Loki reads while Thor studies with Halldis. He wants to learn all he can of Jotunheim before Odin begins talks with them, so he hasn't much time. He wonders what Odin will say to Farbauti, and if Farbauti will even want to hear it.

Loki rises to stretch from his studies and gazes out the mouth of the cave. It has been a dry winter. The peaks around him have little snow on them, and there's only a dusting on the fields beyond. Thor has been too ill to bring storms for much of the season. Odin was doing it, but he can't manage it in his sleep. It appears there was a thaw while they were on Midgard for Jul, and now the ground is nearly bare again. Loki will remind Thor to call a storm later... or goad him into it: he likes the thought of riling Thor up to the point of thunder.

In the sparring arena that afternoon they fight with rapiers. It is easier on their hearts. All they need to do in order to score is land a touch of the blunted blade on each other, and they merely tally the hits until the sun sets. Loki comes out the winner, for he is slim and light on  his feet, and both of his hands are quick. He has always been ambidextrous, and he uses it to his advantage as often as possible. Afterward, the brothers are soaked in sweat, but neither has any need of a healer, and to Thor that feels like victory.

They stop by Valaskjalf on their way to the kitchens so that Thor may sit on the throne for a moment to peek at the realms. Nothing is amiss.

They take their dinner back to their cave. Thor steals all of Loki's squash, so Loki kicks his shins and eats all the apple tarts to punish him. Thor just grins, and Loki suspects the lesson has been lost on his brother. He sighs and makes a note to grab an extra helping of squash the next time it's served. 

They lean back in their seats and nurse their mead. When Loki's drink is empty he takes a deep breath and shifts his skin. Thor cocks his head at him. Loki calls a small wafer of ice to his fingers and places it on his tongue. He sits and counts slowly to sixty. The ice is still there. He chews it up and swallows it before shifting Aesir again.

“Do you think I can touch your skin like Father can?” Thor asks.

“No, love. I burned you on Midgard. To stop your bleeding. Do you not remember?”

Thor frowns.

“I remember seeing you above me. And you went from Jotun to Aesir and I kissed you. Was all of that real?”

“Aye.”

“I didn't notice the burn,” Thor says, shaking his head. 

“The pain of the wound in your neck probably outweighed the sting of my fingers,” Loki says, and Thor nods. 

“How does Father do it?”

“I know not,” Loki admits.

“I'll have to ask him.”

Loki hums and shrugs his eyebrows. He doesn't want to let on how pleased he is that Thor is eager to get his hands on his Jotun skin. His fondness for Thor's approval still makes him feel ill at ease. Owned. Dependent. Needy. Weak.

Thor stands and stretches, cracking his neck and shoulders and walking over to sit at the mouth of the cave, letting his legs dangle over the edge, swinging softly. Loki follows and sits beside him. He lays his head on Thor's shoulder and Thor tangles their fingers together. They stare up at the moons.

“Asgard is short on snow,” Loki says. “The plants need the protection before it gets cold again.”

Thor nods and calls Mjolnir from where she's sitting in a little hammer-shaped hollow under their bed. He kisses Loki's ear.

“Will you draw a bath for us?” Thor asks, and Loki nods.

Thor flies up to the summit of the peak opposite their cave and summons a storm that stretches over all the realm, clouds tumbling into existence overhead. Loki sets the water running and leans against the mouth of the cave to watch as Thor's thunderheads devour the stars. Thor looks so tiny atop the mountain, framed by the night sky. This seidr seems impossible. Like getting an oak tree from an acorn. Thor's hair and clothes whip against him in the wind. Loki can see Thor's teeth when they're lit by flashes of lightning. His brother is grinning. Loki laughs. The clouds are close to them at this altitude. Loki can taste them in the air. That strange mineral flavor. Slightly bitter. And he can smell the sharp burn of electricity.

The snow falls in soft fat flakes that catch the light like crystal. Fluffy and light. Perfect for insulating the ground and all that grows in it. Clever thing, Loki thinks.

Thor lands beside him, looking wild and smelling like winter, and kisses Loki's cheek. Loki grabs the front of Thor's shirt and drags him deeper into the room.

“Undress,” Loki gasps, grabbing Mjolnir from Thor's hand and bending to set her under the bed. She's singing like a bloody siren, Loki notes, and he has to tamp down a burst of jealousy at his brother's bond with the thing.

He turns and finds Thor right behind him, fully clothed. 

“What are you-” 

“She still heeds you,” Thor purrs, wide-eyed, and there's something raw in his voice that sets the blood simmering in Loki's belly.

“Aye. Which is more than can be said of you,” Loki gripes. “You're still covered in clothes.”

Thor pulls Loki closer and Loki can smell the storm on his skin.

“Oh fuck,” Loki groans. “Don't bathe. You smell delicious.”

“You drew us a bath,” Thor counters.

“I'll take one.”

Thor scowls.

“You can join me if you must,” Loki sighs. “But only up to your waist.”

Thor grunts his agreement.

They tug each other's tops off and Loki stands, holding Thor's shirt to his face, breathing in ice and lightning and sweat and skin.

Thor is naked when Loki looks up. He smiles and reaches for Loki's belt. Loki keeps nuzzling Thor's shirt while strong hands strip him to his skin.

Thor chuckles and tugs his tunic out of Loki's hands. They step down into the bath.

“Nothing above your waist,” Loki warns again, dropping under the water.

He completes his bath with a haste Thor wouldn't have dreamt possible from his brother and then wades closer.

“Sit on the edge of the pool,” Loki says, and Thor does.

Thor leans back on his hands while Loki soaps everything from the tips of his toes up to the peaks of his hips, which Thor helpfully lifts so that Loki can reach all the best bits. Loki huffs a laugh. Thor's cock is bobbing in the air happily, and Thor is beaming. Loki takes Thor's hands and tugs him forward. Thor walks back and forth in the bath to rinse himself off while Loki is already out and frantically scrubbing himself dry, hopping on his left leg and then his right, drying his feet. Thor climbs out and Loki crouches in front of him, patting him dry.

Loki's curls drip onto his shoulders and the water reflects the lightning. It looks like he's wearing some strange necklace, the stones strung by unseen strands in wide rings around his neck. Thor bends to steal one of the jewels from the hollow of Loki's left collarbone with his tongue. Loki buries his nose in Thor's hair and breathes deep while his fingers clasp Thor's upper arms.

Loki pinches out the torches and snuffs out the fire, letting the chill of the storm creep into the cave. He leads Thor to their bed, pushing him back to sit in the center and climbing up to straddle his lap. The flashes of lightning from the doorway and the ceiling above their bed let them catch stray glimpses of each other. The edge of Loki's jaw as he leans in to kiss Thor's throat. Thor's face, mouth slack and nostrils stretched wide to let in crisp winter air. The length of Loki's neck, head thrown back in surrender as Thor runs his hands up Loki's legs, thumbs dipping through the crease at the inner thigh and skimming over his balls. Thor's eyes, glowing blue, staring up at Loki as his fingers smear the fluid beading at the heads of their cocks.

His eyes are the color of my skin, Loki thinks. The skin he wants to touch and cannot. Loki scatters little orbs of blue light throughout the domed ceiling above them and Thor's gasp is lost to thunder; they both look Jotun.

Thor takes a deep breath and centers himself. He settles his thunderheads, leaving the clouds with bellies full only of snow, quietly blanketing the realm.

“All right?” Loki asks.

“Mmmm,” Thor answers. “I wish to be able to hear you.”

Loki nods.

Thor runs his hands from Loki's shoulder blades down to the firm curves of his ass and gives them a tight squeeze. Loki grinds his hips down, rubbing their cocks together and pressing the wet lips of his quim against Thor's balls. He whines deep in his throat and Thor pulls him tight and cants his hips up, pressing them together again and pulling another beautiful sound from his brother. Loki ducks his head and deals hungry kisses to Thor's lips, nipping and tugging at them, licking past sharp teeth to tempt Thor's tongue into his mouth, sucking on it wantonly. He hooks an arm under Thor's neck and crawls forward over him, lowering Thor down onto his back and crouching above him. Thor caresses Loki's waist and rubs the sides of his hips. Loki buries his face in Thor's hair, his neck, his armpits, breathing fast and groaning at the scents the greet him. He wants to bottle them all and keep them on a little shelf – a library of Thor. He can include the blond braid he has in a box in his room. He's definitely stealing the clothing that's in a heap on the floor and snuggling it while Thor's out studying. I have to hoard whatever pieces of him he can spare, Loki thinks. I'll need them to quell the loss when he comes to his senses at last and leaves me. When I cost more than he's willing to pay - to sacrifice.

Loki licks and mouths at the muscles over the ribs and then follows the curve of a pectoral up to a nipple, which he sucks and bites, pinching its counterpart between his fingers until Thor is arching and growling beneath him. Then he kisses his way straight to Thor's cock, taking in a lungful of musk as he swallows Thor down and his nose presses into sparse curls.

Thor whines when Loki takes his mouth away and crawls back up the bed to lie beside him.

Thor turns onto his side to look at his brother. Loki is on his back, staring at him, lips parted, lids heavy. Thor leans over to kiss him, placing a hand on Loki's hip. As the kisses go on, Loki's hips press up harder against Thor's palm. Thor dips his fingers down behind Loki's cock and lets them rest on the skin there.

“You're so wet,” Thor whispers. 

Loki's chest heaves and he spreads his legs and pats his breast rapidly, beckoning Thor. 

The sticky heads of their cocks brush against each other as Thor hovers over him. Loki threads his fingers through blond hair, tugging Thor's lips down against his own as he raises his legs and wraps them high around Thor's ribs. They let their lips tangle and clasp each other, peck each other's cheeks, mouth at the edges of jaws, pant into pink ears. Loki grips Thor's waist with his legs and tugs him down and Thor gasps. Loki kisses him and rubs his shoulders. Thor takes a deep breath and leans back, slowly dragging the base of his cock along Loki's own, eyes locked on Loki's face. When the tip of Thor's prick finally brushes the folds of his cunt, Loki wails and his eyes go wide. They're both taking short shuddering breaths. Loki reaches between them and grips Thor's shaft, swirling the smooth skin of the head over the delicate lips of his quim. They both close their eyes and open their mouths. Loki lifts his hips and keeps circling Thor's cock around his entrance, spreading the wetness over both of them.  

Thor looks up when Loki takes his hand away to grip Thor's jaw with both hands. They breathe and stare. Loki lift his hips in supplication and Thor drops his just slightly in answer. Thor's eyebrows lift in a question. Loki nods and then stops breathing. Thor lowers himself slowly until there's no space left between them and Loki starts breathing again, fast and shallow. Thor kisses his nose, his temples, his eyelids, his lips. Loki squeezes Thor's ribs with his thighs and sucks Thor's tongue into his mouth in a gentle rhythm.

Thor takes the hint.

His hips follow the motions described by Loki's tongue, gliding his length through the tight walls of soft warmth within his brother. Thor loves the way the head of his cock catches on the ridge of flesh that covers the bones of the pelvis. Loki seems to like it, too. His hands tighten their grip on Thor's sides.

Thor sucks a mark onto the thin skin of Loki's neck and lets his hips move faster. Loki groans and his body clenches briefly around Thor. Thor hums against Loki's throat and focuses on keeping his pace.

“All right?” Thor whispers, and Loki nods.

“Yes. Thor. Yes.”

Thor grits his teeth and tries to hold his release at bay. Soon Loki's breath is coming in pants, and then it leaves his lungs in a shout as his body clenches and he bucks beneath Thor, cock twitching and warmth pooling between their bellies. Thor has gone still. He can feel the muscles in Loki's quim flexing around him as the last few ripples of orgasm flow through his brother's thin body. Loki sucks Thor's earlobe into his mouth and rests his lips at the edge of Thor's jaw.

“Keep going, love,” Loki urges.

Thor nods and lifts his hips in long, slow strokes. Loki can feel Thor's breath on his neck as it shortens with each press of their bodies.

“Spill inside me,” Loki whispers when Thor's rhythm finally starts to falter.

Thor whines and gasps, pressing deep into Loki a few more times and spending there while Loki clings to him.

Loki hums and wraps his arms around his brother, and then traces the muscles of his back. Thor relaxes against him, kissing him and nuzzling his shoulder.

They're both fighting off sleep. Thor loses the battle and starts snoring into Loki's collarbone and Loki laughs, which pushes Thor's softening cock out of his body. They both yelp and swear, then giggle together.

Thor sighs and climbs off of Loki.

“I'll clean us up,” Thor says, shifting the lights to a soft gold, just bright enough to let him see the delicious mess they've made of each other.

He doesn't want to use seidr to cleanse them, even though it's more effective and efficient. You can barely feel it. And it requires no touch. It takes too much away for Thor's liking. Thor wets a soft cloth with warm water and returns to wipe Loki's belly in long, light strokes, pulling sighs from tired lips. He nudges Loki's legs apart and gently daubs his skin. It feels like worship to wash him like this, Thor realizes. Reverence.

Thor rinses himself hastily in the bath and starts a fire. He's not as adept at it as Loki - he usually ends up lighting the needles one at a time - but he can manage it.

Loki offers his back in invitation and Thor curls up behind him, sliding his left arm under Loki's neck and wrapping his right around his waist.

“All right?” Thor murmurs,

“Mmmm,” Loki nods, and turns his head to kiss the inside of Thor's elbow, seeing its dusting of fine gold hair and thinking, Peach.

Loki doesn't have words for the delicious tempest of sentiments swirling through him. He's still riding the pleasure of the sensations – the warmth, the clarity of the touch, the sensitivity of the skin within him - he felt every spurt of Thor's cock inside him. He's grateful that Thor trusted him and didn't ask any awkward questions (awkward because Loki likely wouldn't have known the answers). He's relieved it didn't hurt or involve any unpleasant surprises. Touched that Thor was as considerate with him tonight as he has been from the beginning.

Their patience with each other here is infinite. Both of them approaching with caution, uncertain of the limitations of their bodies.

“This is what he meant,” Loki says, as his weary mind wobbles through a minor epiphany.

“Hmmm?” Thor murmurs into the damp curls before his face.

“In the library. This is what Odin was going to tell you.”

“What?” Thor asks, alarmed, because if Odin had said Curl up and nuzzle the back of your brother's neck after you've filled his quim with seed  Thor would have died on the spot. Gratefully.

“He was going to tell you to be yourself,” Loki explains. “To be careful with me – with my body. Patient. To do what you were already doing and would continue to do. So he realized he needn't bother.”

Thor hums.

“You should trust yourself,” Loki continues.

“It feels like arrogance,” Thor sighs.

“It isn't,” Loki says, kissing Thor's arm again.

In the morning, while Thor is studying with Halldis, Loki takes the clothes Thor wore the previous night back to his room, shrinks them down to nearly nothing, casts a spell of preservation on them, and slips them into one of his little glass vials, corking it tightly before returning it to his shelves. He hopes the scent will last. The spell should hold it.

He meets with Frigga and Heimdall to make some arrangements before slipping briefly off to Midgard.

In the afternoon he meets up with Thor in the practice arena. Thor looks happy. 

“How was your lesson with Halldis?” Loki asks, and bites the inside of his cheek to remind himself not to hop up into Thor's arms and kiss the pretty god senseless.

“She said I'd been clever.”

“Oh dear. What did you do?”

“I put some honey in a salve I was making.”

Loki raises his eyebrows and nods. Honey is a marvelous preservative and wards against infection. And it smells nice, which is something wounds tend not to do on their own.

“She said she'd be wanting you to join me in lessons soon,” Thor adds.

“Did she say why?” Loki asks, puzzled.

“No.”

Loki hums.

“How shall we spar today?” Thor asks.

“With our hands,” Loki answers, and suddenly Thor looks an inch from tears: mouth tight, brow rumpled, nostrils wide. “It's the only way I'll ever improve,” Loki whispers.

Thor nods grimly. Loki has never beaten him at this. And he knows Loki will be furious if he goes easy on him.

Thor scatters fresh straw and sawdust over the sparring field. Loki glares at him, but Thor just shrugs.

“To spare the ground,” Thor lies, and Loki rolls his eyes.

Thor kicks and nudges the padding at his feet, spreading it evenly. Fussing. Stalling.

“Thor.”

“Very well.”

Thor straightens and they stand a dozen feet apart. Thor looks grim. Loki looks determined.

Loki is looking closely at Thor's face for some indication of his plan. Looking to Thor's eyes to see where they're pointing, but Thor seems to be looking through him, off into the middle distance. It makes Loki angry. He isn't even trying, damn him. Sentimental fool, Loki thinks, and sprints forward, launching himself head first at his brother, who steps neatly to the side at the last moment. Loki only clips his shoulder and tumbles to the ground. He uses his momentum to roll back up onto his feet and turn, but he's snatched up and unceremoniously  thrown to the floor before he's even caught a glimpse of Thor.

Loki hits the ground so hard it knocks the wind out of him and he lies there, trying desperately to suck it back in, looking like a fish on the deck of a boat. Shit. I can't turn my back on him for a second, Loki realizes. And then Thor is on him, pinning Loki's knees to the ground with his shins and bending both of Loki's arms up behind his back, pulling his wrists toward his shoulder blades. Loki opens his mouth to shout but he still can't make any sound. He thrashes uselessly and lets his eyes water instead.

“Yield,” Thor says.

Loki's mouth tightens into a line and he nods. Thor helps him up.

“Again,” Loki says, and Thor sighs, shoulder's sagging.

“Very well.”

Loki opts to let Thor attack this time. He watches Thor's face again, and again Thor appears not to be paying attention, but Loki knows better now. Thor walks up to him as casually as he would if he were meeting Loki in the dining hall, and Loki doesn't know what to make of it. It's only reflex that raises Loki's hand to block the swing Thor's left fist takes at his head, sending it wide. Unfortunately, instinct does not block Thor's right fist, which collides with Loki's solar plexus, winding him again and doubling him over, straight into the knee Thor is swinging up to meet his skull. There's a sickening crunch and the unmistakable sound of blood spattering on the ground between their feet, heavy and wet. Loki straightens and backs away quickly, blood still trickling from his nose. He catches it in his mouth. Thor lunges forward and Loki spits the blood into Thor's eyes, spraying it out between tight lips and lifting a foot to kick Thor square in the belly, taking a long step forward and slamming his left fist into Thor's beautiful face. Thor's cheekbone splits his knuckles. Loki hits him again, this time with his right fist. Thor just hurls his whole body forward, wrapping his arms around Loki's body and squeezing the ribs until they groan. Thor's weight crushes Loki when he lands on top of him. He pins Loki's wrists over his head with his right hand and squeezes Loki's legs between his own. His left hand wraps around Loki's throat.

“Yield,” Thor growls.

Loki thrashes wildly under him but to no avail. Thor's fingers tighten at Loki's neck.

“Yield,” Thor pleads.

Loki swears, then nods.

Thor climbs off him and drags Loki up onto his feet.

Loki steps back a few paces and takes a deep breath.

“Again,” Loki says, and Thor shuts his eyes tight and his lips quiver.

“As you wish.”

By sunset both of them are shaking and covered in blood. Very little of the blood belongs to Thor. Loki's defensive maneuvers improved slightly. Dodging and blocking more effectively. But he never won, and Thor beat him savagely. And Loki always asked him for another round, never too hurt to go on. For a while some soldiers and guards were watching, but it soon grew too disturbing even for them and they ran off to the baths. The gods are frightening when you're faced with the reality of them. Their stamina and tolerance for pain. Their capacity for violence. Their indifference to blood and tears. The way they exist apart from the very realm they live in.

“It's time for supper,” Thor says, and it sounds like begging.

“Aye,” Loki answers, nodding and limping toward the wall to sink down onto a bench.

Thor staggers over and drops down beside him with a sigh.

“May I take you to Halldis?” Thor asks, brow in knots.

Loki is pleased with Thor. He fought at full force and pulled no punches. He didn't coddle Loki for a second, and Loki can tell it cost his brother dearly to do so.

“Aye, love,” Loki whispers.

Thor takes his hand and calls to the Bifrost.

Halldis tsks and raises her eyebrows at the sight the pair of them make, but she doesn't seem terribly surprised.

“I see you've turned your clothes into scabs,” she says, and they snort and wrinkle their noses.

Loki peels his garments off and sits on a cot. Halldis fixes his nose first, soothing away the swelling and discoloration before she sets the bones perfectly back in place. She knows every inch of her pretty idiot princes, which is lucky, for they have often come to her with features askew. She heals his fractured ribs and he groans with pleasure at being able to breathe unconsciously once again. The knuckles he split on Thor's face are mended next, and then the bruises that mottle his skin, like lakes on a map. She checks his head for welts and when she's satisfied that she has found and fixed them all she turns away. Loki flops down onto his back to rest.

“And what about you?” She asks, turning to Thor.

Loki tips his head up to learn what he did or did not accomplish in their bouts.

Thor tugs off his clothes and takes a seat on his cot.

His cheekbones are still bloodied and swollen. Halldis does those first. There's a very clear imprint of Loki's boot on Thor's belly. She clears it away and knits the stinging scrapes at the edges. Thor has always found it strange that the smallest, shallowest wounds so often hurt the most. His knee is bruised where it collided with Loki's face. She mends it with a swipe of her fingers. His shins are covered in bruises and bumps from Loki kicking at them, trying to free himself when Thor pinned him. She runs her hands down them, murmuring spells to smooth and clear them. She threads her fingers through Thor's hair, pressing all over his scalp, feeling for fractures, goose eggs, and tears. Loki knows she won't find anything. He never landed a hit to Thor's head.

“All right, lads” she sighs. “To the baths and to dinner, in that order.”

“She didn't say anything about dressing,” Loki notes.

“Healer's orders,” Thor nods.

They wander all the way back to their rooms naked, faces cast in perfect masks of innocence, their blood-stiffened clothes draped over their arms. They could hear Halldis chuckling when they shut the door behind them. The pages giggle and gape, but the palace guards barely notice. After centuries in Loki's company they know that nudity is nothing to worry about unless it is accompanied by running, screaming, smoke, or some combination thereof.

Thor fills the bath in their hall and they soak in it, letting the heat carry away the aches in their bones as it hastens their healing tissues.

They send a page to fetch dinner for them and nap in Thor's bed until they hear the knock at the door. Thor sets their places at his table and they eat in sleepy silence.

In their cave that night Thor lies in bed on his stomach with his legs stretched apart. Loki gets down on his belly between them and devours Thor's ass, humming happily as the masses of muscle bracketing his face flex and twitch. He drizzles oil into the seam of Thor's behind and over his own skin, fisting his prick and slicking it up, then using the head of his cock to spread the oil over Thor's hole, swirling around it and tickling it, making Thor gasp and arch his back, offering up more of his ass.

“Fond of this, are you?” Loki murmurs, a smile in his voice.

Thor just nods, eyes closed.

Loki keeps tracing the puckered divot of flesh, teasing whimpers from Thor's throat and trying to stifle his own as the little furls of Thor's flesh ruffle the slit at the tip of his prick. He does it until Thor's groans grow impatient.

“Ready?” Loki whispers, and Thor nods enthusiastically.

Loki eases in and lays his body over Thor's, kissing the back of his neck and nesting their fingers together. The warmth of Thor's skin bleeds up through his own. Thor's muscles are plump and yielding beneath Loki's bones, and his short fluttering breaths lift Loki when Thor fills his lungs. Loki flexes his hips gently and mouths at Thor's nape.

“Mmmm... this is lovely,” Loki murmurs as his mind drifts. “I could stay like this all day.”

Thor just hums a quiet sound of approval.

Loki's thrusts remain shallow. He doesn't want to grind Thor into the mattress and risk him spilling.

Loki spends with soft groans and reluctantly pulls out. Thor sighs at the loss and then squeaks when Loki uses seidr to siphon the seed from his ass so there isn't a mess. Loki chuckles and then cleans himself up.

“Turn over,” Loki says, patting Thor's backside affectionately.

Thor does and Loki hovers above him, kissing the freshly healed skin on his cheeks and rubbing their noses together. He takes a meandering path down Thor's chest, torturing his nipples with bites and sucking them purple while Thor vibrates beneath him. He runs his tongue through the grooves between the muscles in Thor's sides, tracing them, and then swings down to Thor's hips, which rise minutely in greeting. Loki kisses their peaks before he tips his head sideways and runs his lips along the base of Thor's cock like he's playing a flute. Then he laps at it, pushing it down with his tongue and humming when it bobs up and smacks his face. When he finally takes Thor fully into his mouth Thor makes a noise so delicious Loki groans in appreciation and Thor shouts at the buzz of sound against his skin.

Loki smirks. He hums a lullaby around Thor's cock, sending the notes into Thor's blood and bones, letting them carry it to Thor's ears as much as the air does. Thor can feel the breath from Loki's lungs, hot and humid, puffing out against the fur at the bottom of his belly. Loki's curls tickle his skin. Thor spills, shaking, and Loki swallows him down.

“I've arranged a surprise for you tomorrow,” Loki says, tugging Thor up into his arms and tucking the sheets around their tired bodies. “Though my motives are purely selfish.”

“Should I be worried?” Thor asks.

“Probably,” Loki laughs.

  
  


5 Surprises

 

When Thor wakes, Loki is already up and dressed. He looks wonderful in dove grey leather leggings with matching boots of suede, an emerald tunic embroidered with black and gold, and his hair arranged in soft curls. His hair grew long in the year he was away, and he hasn't cut it yet. Thor hopes he never does. The curls make his locks look shorter than they really are. When it's wet it falls past his shoulders, but it winds up on itself as it dries, seeming to defy gravity, until it floats at his jawline. Loki read Thor a story from Midgard about a man named Usher. When the man was described, Thor could see his brother's beauty mirrored in the words.

“You look lovely,” Thor rumbles, swinging himself out of bed and sauntering over to tickle Loki's waist.

“Ah! No. Don't you dare dishevel me. Dress yourself, Thor. If I get back here and you're still naked I refuse to take any blame for the consequences.”

Thor just holds up his hands and raises his eyebrows, stepping back to sit on the bed. He isn't ashamed of his body. We walked naked through the halls of the palace just last night. What's he up to?

“Where are you going?” Thor asks.

“You'll see.”

Thor shakes his head and lies back on the bed.

“Dress, Thor. I'm leaving now. You haven't much time.”

“Mmmhmm,” Thor murmurs.

Loki rolls his eyes and calls to the Bifrost.

Ten minutes later Thor wakes to groaning and laughter. He fell asleep where he was, legs hanging off the bed, arms behind his head, still very much not clothed.

Thor tips his head up.

“Wow. Thor. Good morning,” Pepper says.

She's in a light grey dress that fits her like a glove, with a fur cape around her shoulders. Thor recognizes the latter as one of Loki's. She's tall enough to wear it.

Thor is on his feet and striding over to her, arms spread wide.

“Pepper! Welcome to Asgard,” he says, scooping her up into a hug and spinning around the room before setting her back on her feet and bending to kiss both of her hands.

“Thank you,” she says, trying to keep a straight face and thinking of the thousands of depictions of gods in sculptures and paintings. They're always naked, she tells herself. Life imitates art.

“Honestly, Thor,” Loki gripes. “I gave you one task: dress. How did you manage to bungle it so completely?”

Thor shrugs, smiling.

“You look well, lady,” Thor says, taking the cape from her shoulders and draping it over a couch.

“Thanks. You too,” she replies, lovely doe eyes going wide and square jaw flexing. “Aaaand, I'm staring. Sorry,” she murmurs, and turns her eyes to the ceiling.

“Have you had breakfast?” Thor asks.

“No, we're going to have it with you,” Pepper answers.

“Shall I fetch it?” Thor asks.

“Yes,” Loki yelps, instantly. “And dress, damn you. You're distracting.”

Thor chuckles and vanishes.

Poor Heimdall is going to get yet another eyeful, Loki thinks, sighing. I need to put closets in this room.

Pepper just looks out of the mouth of the cave as though nothing out of the ordinary is occurring.

“This view is amazing,” she says. “How long have you lived here?”

“A couple of weeks,” Loki answers. “We've known of this place for centuries, but we only just got around to inhabiting it.”

She hums and sits on the couch near the fire, setting her bag by her feet. He throws more pine needles into the hearth to keep her warm and then sits beside her.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Mmmm. We've been careful. Only our parents and Heimdall know. Well, officially. I'm fairly certain our healer figured it out ages ago, but she's always loved us far better than we deserve, so we've no cause to worry... Thor's friends might have put it together...”

“In your letter you said you wanted me to visit while things were stable. Are they going to destabilize?”

Loki bites his lip.

“We're about to begin talks with Jotunheim. It's bound to get messy. And Thor will likely ascend the throne soon. Asgard will chafe a bit under new rule. They've called Odin their king for as long as they can remember. And things here have been quiet for much of the last millennium.” Pepper's eyes widen slightly. Loki smiles and sighs. “And, as you may have noticed, my brother is entirely shameless. He will not be able to keep... this a secret for long. I'm trying to enjoy it all before it goes to pieces.”

They laugh.

“For a trickster god you're surprisingly practical,” she says.

“If one intends to make mischief more than once, one must have enough wit to survive the aftermath... or avoid detection entirely.”

Thor returns with their breakfast – and clothes on his back – and sets the table. He has done well on both counts: he's in deep grey silks, embroidered with crimson and silver, and he's brought fresh fruit, pastries, rolls, smoked meat, and poached eggs. Loki gives him a grateful smile as he pours them water. 

After their meal, Loki shoos Thor off to his lesson with Halldis.

“Shall I give you the tour?” Loki asks.

“Please,” Pepper says.

They rise and he drapes the cape around her once more and offers his arm. She takes it and they both grin. She is fond of traveling by the Bifrost already.

They begin in Thor's room. She pets the pelts on his bed and looks at the strange objects on his shelves, smiling at the little bronze horse on the mantle.

“Would you like to go riding later?” Loki asks.

“I'd love to, but I didn't think to dress for it.”

“I'll see you sorted,” he smiles.

They go out onto the balcony and into Loki's room. She stares at the sky as it drifts across the ceiling. She wisely touches nothing on the shelves full of vials, but she looks closely at the books and pulls a few out for a peek.

He waves a dismissive hand at the lavatory and bathroom, but she insists on seeing the bath.

“You have to promise me you'll never let Tony come here,” she says. “He'll get all kinds of ideas.”

Loki snorts.

The guards give them lingering looks as they walk through the halls. Not because they're concerned that a woman has appeared out of nowhere, deep inside the palace, but because the have never seen Loki walk arm in arm with anyone other than Thor and Frigga.

He takes her into Valaskjalf and she marvels at the throne and the spaciousness. The solidity of the place.

“I'm afraid there's nothing to see in the gardens this time of year, but I would love to bring you back in spring and summer if all is well here.”

“That'd be great.”

Loki takes her to the stables and, with a wave of his hand, her dress gives way to soft leather breeches, a sturdy tunic, and a short fur cloak. Her lovely little shoes with their towering stems for heels morph into knee high boots of suede, and there are soft leather gloves over her slim fingers.

“Yes or no?” he asks, and she grins.

“Yes.”

“This is Sleipnir. And, no, I did not give birth to him, though Thor and I did raise him.”

She reaches out to pet the velvety skin of his muzzle.

“Would you like to ride him?” Loki asks.

“Are you serious?” she asks, and he grins at her wickedly.

Loki leads them out into the paddock, kneels to offer the top of his leg as a step, and Pepper climbs onto Sleipnir's back. Loki hops up behind her.

“All right?” he asks.

“No reins or saddle?”

“He prefers to go without. Hold his mane. I'll keep you righted.”

She nods and he slips his arms around her waist to hold her in place as they leap the low fence and nearly fly over fields and streams. Her hair tickles his cheeks and fills his nose with her perfume. Loki hums and reminds himself not to nuzzle her nape. When he sees her ears turning pink he pulls the hood of the cape over her head. Then he takes them far into meadows and deep into forests. Every now and again a squirrel will scramble along a branch overhead and dump snow down onto them and they yelp and shake their fists at it. Loki shows her birds – some strange, and some strangely familiar, and deer, and frozen waterfalls. He follows the edge of the sea, where they break into a full gallop, snow flying up behind them as steam bursts from Sleipnir's nostrils. Loki hugs her tight against him, bracing her and feeling her ribs shake with laughter and shouts of joy. He feels a stab of sadness he can't explain and hadn't foreseen, but it only makes his happiness burn more brightly beside it.

They go back through the city, and Loki explains the purposes of various buildings and points out the sites of some mischief he and his brother caused. When the sun gets low they return to the stables, drying and brushing Sleipnir together until he's calm and breathing softly. Her gloved hand brushes Loki's bare one as they pet the horse's neck.

“So, you really don't get cold?” she says.

“No. I'm Jotnar. Here,” he says, stepping back.

He shifts his skin and calls ice to his fingertips. Sleipnir turns his head to give him a long look, sniffs the air, finds that it still smells of Loki, and decides all is well enough.

“This is the skin I was born in,” Loki explains, and then shifts back.

“That's incredible,” she says, and he tries not to smile too broadly.

When Thor arrives in the sparring arena he finds Heimdall waiting for him.

“You spar with me today, prince,” the guardian god says, and Thor's eyes go wide.

“Who is watching the realms?” Thor asks.

“The queen,” Heimdall answers, and Thor grins.

Loki takes Pepper back to his room. When they ascend the curved stair and open the bronze door they do so just in time to catch Thor walking from the bath to his bedroom, dripping wet and whistling, wearing nothing but a towel draped around his neck.

Pepper bites her lips and traps a laugh. Loki sighs.

“Have fun riding?” Thor asks.

“Tons,” Pepper says, and Loki slaps Thor's ass as they pass by. Pepper grins.

In Loki's room he restores Pepper's wardrobe and changes his own clothes with a wave of his hand. He's in a structured black silk tunic that ends just below his hips and nips in neatly at the waist where there's a sash tied tightly. Its collar is high, but plunges sharply at the throat and permits glimpses of the lovely hollow there. There are dragons - in black, green, and gold embroidery - running in symmetrical curves down his front and back. He has on matching black leggings, with elaborate bands of stitching running down the outsides of each leg, and black leather boots up to his knees, sleek and shining.

“Am I dressed for this?” Pepper asks.

“Of course you are. You look lovely, my dear.”

She looks skeptical.

“What will your mom be wearing?” she asks.

“Ah. Well... rather a lot of gold, I expect. Possibly silver.”

He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.

“Shall we find you something a bit more extravagant?” he purrs.

There's a knock on Loki's door.

“Are you ready for dinner?” Thor calls.

“Yes, coming,” Loki answers.

He and Pepper come through the doors arm in arm and Thor's eyebrows ascend.

“Is it bad?” Pepper says.

“Just the opposite,” Thor assures. “Last I saw you were in a riding kit.”

“Oh, right,” she laughs.

Loki has put her in a strapless white sheath, covered entirely in pearls and bits of shell, patterned in curves that mimic her own and are yet reminiscent of armour. He copied the shoes she came in – tall heels with a dainty base. He covered these in pearls as well. He had wanted to choke her with necklaces and shackle her in bracelets but found he couldn't bear to cover any more of her skin.

“Mother?” Loki calls when they reach her wing.

“Come,” she answers.

“It's so different,” Pepper murmurs when they enter Frigga's hall, all warmth and softness. Oak floors and ceilings. Tapestries on the walls. Plush couches. Paintings and sculptures.

Thor and Loki nod their agreement.

Frigga meets them in her sitting room.

“I'm so glad you could join us,” she says, taking Pepper's hand.

“I'm so grateful to be here,” Pepper smiles, bowing politely, and Frigga steals Pepper's arm from Loki and walks her in to the dining room.

“I'm sorry Odin won't be dining with us,” the queen says, pulling out a seat and motioning their guest into it. “He's taking one of his ridiculous naps.”

They all snort.

“Honestly,” Frigga mutters. “I'm as old as he is and I haven't had even one.”

The evening passes too swiftly for Loki's liking, but it's perfect in its loveliness.

Pepper asks for stories to hold over the princes heads and Frigga is happy to provide them.

She relates how Loki burned off all his clothes with his first attempt to conjure fire. How Thor crashed into the palace, the woods, the hillsides, the sea, and half the rooftops in Asgard when he was learning to fly with Mjolnir. How the first glamour Loki cast on himself was of a rosebush... and how he couldn't figure out how to undo it, so he shuffled through the halls as a shrub for two weeks until he mastered the seidr. How, when Thor hit puberty, he called so many storms Asgard nearly flooded. Odin had to take Thor to Midgard, Alfheim, and Vanaheim, visiting regions of drought, until he learned to control himself. How, as tiny children, they told her they'd planted a garden with seeds they found in the lawns, but nothing grew. When Frigga asked them to show her what sort of seeds they had planted they pulled handfuls of the stuff out of their pockets: it was rabbit dung.

Frigga catches Loki filling Pepper's glass with wine for what must be the ninth time that night.

“Loki, let her be - she'll burst,” Frigga chides.

“Nay, she'll stretch. I can't promise the same holds true for the seams of that dress, though,” Loki says, breezily.

Frigga's hand flies out and grabs the sash around Loki's waist, twisting it and squeezing a surprised “oof” from his lungs.

“Loki Gudleifr Runi Odinson if you tampered with that dress, Norns help you-”

“I jest!” he gasps, hands held up in surrender, and she releases him.

Pepper and Thor are twitching with laughter.

“Though I think it's rather negligent of me,” Loki murmurs into his wine.

Frigga narrows her eyes at him and he hides his smirk in his glass.

After supper they dance in Valaskjalf. Pepper doesn't know the music or the motions and watches Thor and Frigga as they move, but the pattern is a lengthy one, repeating infrequently.

“Here,” Loki says, motioning her closer. “Stand on my feet.”

She laughs but does so. He puts his arm around her waist and she wraps hers around his neck and Loki spins them through the room.

“Am I squishing your toes?” she whispers.

“Not a bit, love. You're as light as breath. We're quite dense in this realm.”

The song is sad but soothing, and the room is filled to the rafters with the low sighs of the stringed instruments played by the palace musicians.

Frigga bids them goodnight and the brothers link arms with their guest and return to their room in the mountain.

Loki conjures Pepper's pretty grey dress and drapes it over his arm.

She raises her eyebrows.

“You're keeping that one,” Loki says, motioning to the one she's wearing, and she grins.

“Oh! I forgot. I've got something for you in my bag,” Pepper says.

She fetches a small box wrapped in shiny paper and hands it to Loki.

He opens it carefully and looks at it, puzzled.

“It's a camera,” she explains, and Thor squeals. “And a printer. Solar powered.”

“Thank you,” Loki gasps. “What do I do?” he asks, and Thor crowds close behind him, wanting to see.

She explains it all to them and they practice. Loki backs away to take a picture of Thor and Pepper. Thor takes one of Loki and Pepper, and Pepper takes one of Thor and Loki. They're all rosy-cheeked and grinning wide, flushed and giddy with wine and dancing. She reaches into her purse once more and pulls out a box of extra paper for the tiny printer in the camera.

“When you run out, come over and grab more,” she smiles

“Gladly,” Loki says, and sighs. “I should be getting you back.”

She nods and grimaces slightly.

She hugs Thor and receives dozens of kisses on her cheeks and the backs of her hands in return.

Norse gods are happy drunks, she thinks.

“Thank you for joining us,” Thor says, bowing. “And for the gift  - it is perfect."

She smiles and squeezes his arms.

“Ready?” Loki whispers, and she takes his offered hand.

And then they're in Tony's living room.

“Thanks for having me,” she says, smiling a bit sadly.

“My pleasure, lady.”

“If things get bad, your room is still here. You guys are always welcome.”

“Thank you,” Loki breathes, bowing low and kissing her hand.

He hums.

“What?” she asks.

“You smell of snow and Sleipnir,” he murmurs as he straightens.

She smacks his shoulder.

“You let me go to dinner with your mother while I smelled like a horse?” she yelps.

He laughs.

“Everyone in Asgard smells of horses, love, just as everyone on Midgard smells of cars. It drove Thor mad trying to discover the scent. Then we rode in that cab at Christmas and he put it together.”

She smiles and nods.

“Grant me a favor, lady,” Loki whispers, and she cocks her head. “Pinch the Captain's pretty bottom and tell him it's from Thor.”

She snorts and crushes him in a hug and he reminds himself not to return the gesture as fully, lest he break her bones. He sets cool hands lightly over her her shoulder blades and tucks his nose behind the bend of her jaw. Her body is so tiny before his own. Frail beyond his wildest imagining. Or fear. He wishes he could sever a piece of his own strength. Arm her with it. He presses her carefully to his chest before gathering his wits, kissing her cheek, and murmuring a soft “Goodnight, love” in her ear.

And then he's gone. Pepper shakes her head and sighs.

“Jarvis, please tell me you saw that, and that I'm wearing a dress made out of pearls and shell, and that I'm not losing my mind.”

“Miss Potts, I saw the Norse god of mischief kiss your cheek and vanish. Your dress is, indeed, made of pearls and shell... and possibly magic. And your mind is as well as anyone could hope given those circumstances.”

Pepper laughs.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Potts?”

“How the hell do I get out of this dress?”

“How was your sparring session with Heimdall?” Loki asks, sinking onto the couch beside Thor in their cave, shifting Jotnar and setting ice on his tongue.

“He cut me to ribbons with his sword,” Thor admits. “But when we met without weapons I got a bit of my own back.”

Loki rolls his eyes. Thor grins.

“Are you mended?” Loki asks around the ice in his mouth.

“Aye. Halldis put me back together afterward. This one was hanging by a shred of skin,” Thor says, wiggling the fifth finger of his right hand.

Loki sighs, frowning. A moment later Thor hears ice crunching between his brother's teeth.

Thor rises and wiggles his fingers, motioning for Loki, who shifts his skin again and heaves himself off the couch. Thor pulls him in tight and sways. They dance to the sounds of breathing and hearts beating and then Loki feels Thor working the sash loose around his waist. He slips it off and tosses it away, to flutter down onto the rug. Then he leans back and reaches up between them to stroke the tiny arrow of smooth skin that peeks out from Loki's collar. Loki's head tips back in encouragement. Thor bends to taste the spot, smelling wine, Sleipnir, snow, Pepper, and Loki's own unique perfume. The line of hooks that closes the garment is slowly undone, baring more of Loki's chest with each turn of Thor's fingers, until Thor can finally toss the pretty black silk aside and run his hands over smooth skin. Wine always leaves Loki warm. Thor wants to wallow in it.

Loki steps back and raises his legs, one after the other, so Thor can tug his boots off. Thor's patience ends there and he strips Loki's leggings down and stands, pressed flush against him, his right arm high on Loki's back, pulling him to his breast, his left urging Loki's leg up around his hip. Thor kisses him and when they break apart, Thor finds that Loki has stripped him with seidr.

Thor smiles and pinches his fingers to snuff out the torches. Loki watches as Thor casts tiny lights throughout their room, placing them carefully. He concentrates them over the bath and the bed.

They stand under the water as their pool fills and then sit on the first step, steeping in their bath, arms around each other's shoulders

“Did she enjoy her time here?” Thor asks.

“Mmmm,” Loki nods. “Took to the Bifrost like a bird to the sky.”

Thor nods.

“You looked delicious all day. It was excruciating,” Thor rumbles, turning and pulling Loki onto his lap, mouthing his throat.

“So did you,” Loki murmurs, voice gone soft as Thor nuzzles his neck. “I haven't seen you in those silks in nearly a century.”

“Aye. It's been so quiet here. I've had no occasion,” Thor says, between bites to Loki's ear.

“I suspect the pace of life on Asgard will soon pick up,” Loki says.

“Of course it will, because now I don't want it to,” Thor sighs, resting his forehead on Loki's shoulder.

“We'd best enjoy it while it lasts, then, don't you think?” Loki purrs.

Thor nods and they bathe each other so slowly and thoroughly they're both breathing hard and shaking by the end of it.

Thor scrubs Loki dry while Loki carefully pats his curls with a towel until Thor tugs it out of his hand and scoops him up in his arms, tossing him playfully in the air on their way to the bed.

Thor lays him down and straddles his waist, seating himself on Loki's pelvis, nestling Loki's cock in the cleft of his ass. He runs his hands over Loki's chest, kneading muscles and stroking bones, then glides them down the flanks and digs his fingers into the undefended flesh there.

Loki shrieks and thrashes, smacking Thor with open hands and sputtering, arching up beneath him and chanting “You bastard” between giggles and halting breaths.

Thor finally takes pity on him and grips Loki's hands, murmuring “truce.”

He leans forward and stretches Loki's arms out over his head, draping them over the pillow. Loki tips his head up to watch. Thor kisses the delicate skin of his inner arms, beginning at the wrists and moving down to the elbows, following the pulse where it beats against his lips, feeling it quicken the closer he gets to its source. Loki leans up to lick and bite Thor's nipples where they're hovering over his head and Thor sucks bruises onto Loki's biceps

“It's going to look like I put those there myself,” Loki chuckles, and Thor shakes with laughter above him.

Loki loves the drag of Thor's beard on his skin, though he still hates the way it conceals Thor's face. He shaves it off with seidr whenever he wants to see Thor's cheeks, never asking permission. Thor doesn't mention it.

Thor's lips approach Loki's armpits and Loki moans a little. Thor hums in answer. He loves how responsive and transparent his normally-unreadable brother is in bed. He laves the musky hollow with his tongue and watches Loki's chest expand, filled with breath that's held there. He kisses his way across the breast and Loki exhales slowly, then drinks another deep draught of air when Thor arrives in his other underarm, licking and mouthing it.

Thor lies atop Loki and kisses his jaw and Loki pulls Thor tight against him, fingers spread wide over the breadth of his back. They kiss until it becomes unbearable and their hips twitch at the neglect.

Thor kisses his way down to Loki's cock, lapping at it and giving it one long suck before leaving it to cool in the air while he gets down on his belly and greets Loki's quim. Loki lets his legs fall wide and Thor wedges his hands under Loki's ass, lifting Loki's hips, offering them up to his tongue.

Thor's beard feels incredible here: Loki's flesh is pink and defenseless, and the bristles tickle as they brush by. Thor has his face buried in wet folds of skin and Loki is moaning appreciatively above him. Loki whimpers when Thor's tongue slides into him and the sound makes Thor groan.

“Thor.”

“Mmmm?”

“Come here.”

When Thor stretches out above him again Loki can see his own wetness trapped in his brother's whiskers, and then he can taste it when Thor kisses him. He tastes like me. Like he's mine... or I'm his, Loki realizes, and he doesn't think he could feel more naked than this. In a few minutes he'll find out he's wrong.

Loki takes Thor's cock in his hand and slides the head gently between the lips of his quim, tracing and teasing it a moment before hooking his legs behind Thor's back and pulling him in. Thor growls and Loki kisses him with teeth. Thor rests his weight on Loki's body and buries his face in a dark halo of curls while his hips glide gently between long legs. Loki's fingers skate through the sweat on Thor's back and his nails rake the skin until it's warm and red.

Thor spills, chanting Loki's name, and Loki is still lost in the music of his brother's voice when Thor heaves himself up and bounces back down the bed. He puts his palms on Loki's knees, holding them apart. Loki goes completely still. Thor runs his hands down the insides of Loki's thighs, spreading them slightly. Loki takes shallow, silent breaths. Thor calls more lights to the ceiling over their heads. Loki's pulse shakes his limbs. Thor bends to see where his seed is beginning to leak from Loki's body. He leans in to catch it with his tongue. Loki jerks and the motion pushes more of Thor's spill from his quim. Thor laps that up, too, then plunges his tongue inside and licks Loki clean. Thor has waited a thousand years for these pleasures, and he'll be damned if he's going to miss a single drop.

Loki is keening and writhing like a thing possessed – a puppet dancing at the tip of Thor's tongue – and Thor has never felt more like a mage.

When Thor is satisfied with his work there, he kisses his way up Loki's cock and then sinks down onto it with his mouth. Loki groans and shudders against Thor's lips until he can't lie still any longer.

“Stay right there,” Loki says, and Thor hums happily while Loki fucks up into his face until his hips are stuttering and his tongue is shaping words his lips won't let him say.

Thor fetches them water and cleans them up with wet cloths and then they lie there, breathless and stupid.

Loki's mind wanders. He wonders if Thor likes that he has a quim because it lets him feel like what they're doing isn't argr. Then he remembers their first night together in the woods. How Thor had gone down on his back and welcomed Loki into his body. He realizes Thor isn't the least bit afraid or ashamed. But perhaps Thor likes Loki's body because it reminds him of someone else he wanted. However brief and unfulfilled, Thor's love of Jane has left Loki with fears and doubts that haunt the dark corners of his mind.

“Why have you gone all tense?” Thor mumbles.

“Did you take to my new form so readily because you always envisioned yourself with a woman?” Loki asks.

“I always envisioned myself with you.”

“You envisioned me with a cock.”

“Aye, and you have a cock.”

“And a quim.”

“Yes. And eyes, lips, teeth, and hair. What of it?”

“Jane has no cock.”

Thor sighs.

“I am not the one who spent the day pressing a woman tight to his belly, brother.”

Loki scowls.

“How did you know?”

“I could smell only Sleipnir,” Thor explains. “So you and Pepper rode together. And the scent of her was all down your front and up your arms. Your cheeks smelled of her hair, but hers did not smell of yours, so you were behind her. No scent of leather, so you used no saddle. You held her in place.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Why?” Thor whispers. “You've done nothing wrong.”

“I think I'd be angry, were I you.”

Thor shrugs.

“You're not me. Which is why I love you. Now quit being an idiot - that's my realm,” Thor teases, then takes Loki's hands and plays with the fingers. “Jane is clever and lovely and reckless and rare. Sound like anyone else you know?”

“Pepper,” Loki answers, nodding, and Thor laughs.

“I was thinking more of you, you cow.”

“Ah.”

“But it's true of Pepper, too.”

Loki nods again.

“Quit looking for flaws in this - you just end up inventing them. Let yourself rest,” Thor whispers, and tugs Loki close.

They fall asleep with their foreheads pressed together and, when they wake, there are achy red marks where their skin was squished between their skulls.

Loki rides Thor's morning erection, sucking on his throat and biting his ear, sobbing happily against his neck as he bounces up and down his brother's body, driving Thor into him over and over.

After Thor's lessons with Halldis, he  meets Loki in the arena to spar.

“How shall we fight today, brother?” Thor asks, frowning slightly.

“With seidr,” Loki purrs, and Thor's eyes go wide.

Loki casts a shield around the area they're going to spar in so that the others in the arena won't be caught up in stray spells. 

“Ready?” Loki asks.

“I doubt it,” Thor sighs.

Loki has already shielded his person against most magic. He wonders if his brother will discover the loophole.

Thor throws a spell that clouds the vision. It bounces back and ensnares him. He stands blinking and cursing, listening to Loki's tsks.

When he can see again, Thor casts a protection on himself and then throws a curse to render Loki immobile. This time nothing happens at all.

“Better,” Loki says.

Next Thor throws wind at him, and this plays to Thor's strength. Loki's hair flies out behind him and his clothes pull tight across his front. Then Loki holds out his hands and they seem to swallow the gale.

“Much better,” Loki purrs, and throws the wind back at Thor, only now it's full of snow and Thor can't see again. When he opens his eyes, Loki is behind him, holding a blade of ice that stings the warm skin of his neck.

“Yield,” Loki says, voice little more than breath in Thor's ear.

Thor nods.

They face off again.

Thor hurls lightning at him. Without Mjolnir. Loki's eyes go wide and his face splits into a grin that's almost obscene. He dodges the first bolt and catches the second in his hand, absorbing it and making himself glow. His eyes are lit like stars and his hair floats around his head. Thor wards himself and waits. Loki sends a blast of seidr into the ground beneath Thor's feet, throwing Thor into the air and knocking the breath out of him. He's on his belly in the dirt, gasping, when he feels the tip of an icicle at the base of his skull.

“Yield.”

“I do,” Thor rasps.

This time Thor murmurs a spell meant to immobilize objects and casts it at Loki's clothing.

“Ooooo, you clever thing,” Loki croons, and Thor stalks over to him.

Before he can get there, Loki aims his fingers at his brother and binds Thor's boots to each other. He falls like a tree. Loki peels Thor's spell from his person and wraps it around Thor, who is now motionless on his back. Loki kneels and puts his hand on Thor's throat.

“Yield, my pretty peach,” Loki whispers.

Thor's nostrils flare and he nods a little. Loki leans in close.

“Are you well?”

“Take me home and take me,” Thor says, and Loki doesn't miss a beat.

They're in their room and Loki's grabbing oil and tugging down his pants while Thor's fingers are flying over his own laces and shoving down his leggings. And then they're on their knees on the rug and Loki's fucking into Thor so hard they're both grunting and moaning like they're being beaten. Thor spills, wailing, and Loki isn't far behind. They tip onto their sides, breathing hard and sweating. Loki rubs the slick skin of Thor's hip absentmindedly.

They bathe and dine and sprawl on their bed. Loki sets a book on Thor's chest and Thor smiles and reads him to sleep.

In the morning Thor brings them breakfast and then departs for his lesson with Halldis. He comes back almost immediately.

“She says you're to attend today.”

Loki dresses and follows his brother.

There's a very pregnant woman in the room Halldis takes them to. She's in labor.

“This young lady has generously agreed to teach you two a lesson,” Halldis smiles.

Thor looks happy enough to burst. He adores pregnant women – pregnant anything, really - he has to remind himself not to touch them without their permission when he passes them in the city. Loki is excited to see something new. Frigga joins them a moment later, in a simple dress of white linen. They can feel her seidr to their cores, vast and dark and fluid, like the sky and sea at night.

 

6 Diplomacy

 

Odin wakes a few days later.

Thor and Loki practically vibrate with anticipation and nervous energy. Thor's greatest shame is his attack of Jotunheim. He's afraid his very existence will sour things further and it ties his stomach in knots

Loki worries he'll be rejected by a realm that he, too, has wronged. Afraid he'll get what he thinks he deserves. Afraid they'll want him dead and doubt the sincerity of his wish for peace. That they'll never trust him enough to forge the alliance Thor so badly wants and grant the forgiveness he needs.

The uniform of inter-realm envoys is a mid-tone grey gown. The color of complete neutrality. The shape conceals the figure, leaving them just a column. They bear a tall flag with the symbol of their realm on it. Asgard's is a raven. 

The envoy sets out for Jotunheim and returns several times over, ferried back and forth between Farbauti's throne room and Odin's hall by Heimdall. Eventually the ambassador sets out to speak with Freyr. His throne on Alfheim is empty, as ever, so they seek him at his sister's hall on Vanaheim. Terms are reached before the day is through.

The talks between Odin and Farbauti are to be had on Alfheim, which is a wild and strange place where neither realm has any great deal of sway or advantage. It is Freyr's world, and he doesn't meddle with it much. To use either of their own realms would show favor and bias, so those were never considered. Vanaheim was rejected as too closely allied with Asgard. Nivlheim as too dangerous. Muspelheim was obviously out of the question. Helheim is thought inauspicious. Svartalfheim has never been allied with anyone and isn't even considered, and Midgard wouldn't know what to do with itself if they all showed up there.

It goes well. The kings meet on a cool mountain for Farbauti's comfort, setting up a simple tent, a rug, and chairs. They each bring only one page, as agreed upon, and no guards, for they are both powerful enough not to fear for their safety.

Loki and Thor are too distracted to spar properly. They stand in the arena with their swords hanging limply from their hands, staring off into space. Sif shouts at them to go count the snowflakes as they fall for all the good they're doing themselves. They go back to their cave to pace and fidget and make frequent trips to Hlidskjalf to see if Odin has returned. When they finally find him there he shoos them away and insists that they let him eat dinner with Frigga in peace. They sulk in the dining hall for two hours and then return to hound Odin once more.

He finally takes pity on them and they meet in the comfort of Frigga's sitting room.

“We will meet on Jotunheim in three days. Go get new silks - you're not wearing any armor. We'll stay at Farbauti's palace and talk until we understand each other. And long after that, if we're lucky. Think of gifts to bring.”

Loki meets with Odin to ask if he may return the Casket.

Thor wears silver silks. There's an eagle on his back in red thread. He tops it with a glistening leather cape made of bilgesnipe skin. The inside is lined with the pelt of an enormous bear.

Loki wears black with gold and green embroidery. The image of his helmet is spread across his back. He wears a short fur cape of black weasel that shows off his miles of leg. Thor likes the ensemble a great deal.

Heimdall sets them down on Jotunheimm just outside the gates of the city and Thor stares up at the smooth black walls of ice.

“Impressive, is it not?” Loki asks.

“Aye,” Thor answers, and Loki can see the word leave Thor's tongue as a puff of steam.

Pages come and escort them to the throne.

Odin stands, flanked by his sons and the three of them bow before Farbauti and make their greetings and thanks to him.

Thor kneels and offers up his gift.

“It is a simple pleasure, but a perfect one,” Thor says. “They grow on Midgard, and I know a Frost Giant who is quite fond of them. I hope it is as much to your liking as it is to his.”

Farbauti reaches to take the gift: a pineapple that has been charmed to duplicate. Thor didn't want to bring too many if they didn't like it, but wanted there to be enough for everyone if they did.

“Your fondness for Midgard is well known, prince,” Farbauti says, examining the spiky fruit. “What draws you to the strange little mortals?”

Thor thinks a moment.

“Their lives burn brightly. They have grown clever with no seidr to aid them. Found things we never even thought to look for. Heard the first cries of the realms as they came into being. They are quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Generous. Kind”

“And their art is unrivaled,” Loki adds. “No painter, composer, or poet in any realm has equaled theirs.”

Farbauti raises an eyebrow.

“I've checked. Repeatedly,” Loki admits.

Thor stands and Odin puts his hands on his sons' elbows.

“The Casket was not all I stole from your realm when the war ended,” Odin says. “I took another treasure. I kept it hidden and told no one, for fear it would be taken back.”

Odin squeezes Loki's elbow and Loki steps forward. He kneels and calls the Casket to his hands. The blue bleeds up his fingers and arms until at last his eyes are red.

The room is silent. No one in it is breathing and every eye is round.

“Stand and let me look at you, prince,” Farbauti whispers.

The king stares at Loki for long minutes before dropping down on his knees and sitting on his heels to bring their faces even. He takes Loki's chin between his fingertips and marvels at him.

“You live.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Farbauti keeps staring and prods at him a bit, turning his face from side to side. He hands the Casket off to a guard, unconcerned, and holds Loki's graceful hands in his own enormous ones.

“Are you well?”

“Aye, my lord.”

Farbauti shakes himself at last and rises.

“My thanks to you for this theft, All-Father. He was taken from me the instant he left my body. And I was unable walk, of course. By the time I dragged myself out onto the ice there was no sign of him.”

They move to a more comfortable room and sit together on seats made of leather stretched between lengths of bone.

Odin warns Farbauti that Asgard is still very set in its ways. That not everyone can have the epiphany that Thor had when he found out his brother is Jotun. He fears the path will be rough.

“Few things worth doing are ever easily done,” Farbauti shrugs.

They dine and Thor is relieved to find the Jotnar like pineapple as much as Loki does.

“You have a sweet-tooth, prince,” Byleistr notes, eyes going wide at his first bite of the fruit.

“I have a mouth full of them,” Loki admits.

“Such tastes are hard to come by in this realm. Thank you for your gift, Odinson.”

“You're welcome,” Thor grins, relieved.

Farbauti escorts them to the wing of the palace in which they'll be staying. The ceilings are low, by Jotnar standards, so the rooms will warm more readily for the guests. The floors are covered in mats of woven seaweed and the furnishings are largely of leather and bone.

He shows Odin to a room and, once the door shuts behind him, he takes Thor and Loki down the hall.

"So, Odinson,” Farbauti says, addressing Thor. “Have you found a clever mate to rule beside you?”

“Aye, my lord, if he'll have me.”

“I hope you have chosen more wisely than I did.”

“I have chosen more wisely than any before me,” Thor answers, and the king smiles.

“And more bravely,” the king says, squeezing his shoulder, which is at the height of his hands.

Thor can feel the chill, but his shirt protects his skin. He is puzzled by the kings words.

“These rooms were readied for you two, but I suspect you'll only be needing one.”

Loki and Thor go still and the blood drains from their cheeks.

“How did you know?” Loki gasps, unable to stop himself.

“Your eyes have little interest in anything but each other. And you smell the same.”

“Does it not offend you?” Loki says.

“The heart never means offense, and the Norns bound yours together tightly. Woe to any that attempt to sever them,” Farbauti answers. “The room on the right is very slightly warmer, if it's of any consequence to you. Goodnight, Odinsons.”

The bed is a slab of ice with a raised edge. It's filled with dried kelp and has many soft pelts piled atop it. They strip and climb into it, snuggling close together while they wait for their skin to warm the mattress. When they shift their limbs the bed makes a sound like the wind in tall grass. They both like that. It's not something one would expect to hear in Jotunheim.

Loki shakes Thor off and puts a chip of ice on his tongue, then squawks.

Thor looks at him.

Loki swallows the water and shifts his skin back to match his brother's.

“It melted,” Loki says, eyes wide.

Thor raises his eyebrows and grabs Loki by the waist, pulling him closer, grinning and humming against Loki's mouth.

“Shall I fatten you up with a baby?” Thor rumbles, and Loki pinches Thor's ass, hard.

“Don't you dare,” he says.

“I didn't bring any oil,” Thor admits. “Thought we'd be sleeping in separate rooms.”

“Likewise,” Loki says. “Good thing our mouths are always wet.”

Thor nods.

When they're both sweaty and sated Thor disappears beneath the covers and sprawls over Loki's belly, pressing kisses just above his cock. Loki strongly suspects the kisses are meant for the ripe egg in his womb. He rolls his eyes, but only the ceiling sees.

In the morning they breakfast on smoked seal fried in its own fat, which Loki finds legitimately delightful. The meat is rich and crisp and tastes nothing like fish. Thank the Norns, Loki thinks.

Farbauti shows them around the palace and Loki pretends he hasn't seen it all before.

Thor hums when they get to the library. Many of the books are familiar to him, as Loki is often engrossed in them.

They dine in an airy hall lit with seidr, glowing from beams of ice that crisscross the ceiling. Farbauti wants to hear about the millennium of Loki's life that he missed out on, and Loki spares himself no pain in his answers and makes many apologies. Farbauti shrugs it off, saying it all came out well enough in the end and offering the excuse that, when the gods fail, they tend to do so on a spectacular scale.

Afterward Loki asks if he and Thor may walk through the realm and, upon receiving permission, the brothers set off. The kings settle in with strong liquor to reminisce about times long before the princes were born.

Loki takes Thor to the cemetery at the foot of the mountains and shows him the grave of the infant that he tended to, breaking the last threads of Odin's spell. Thor is quiet and squeezes his brother's hand.

In the city, Loki sees the pair of Frost Giants he had spied on during his banishment, each holding a tiny baby. He nearly waves.

Plans are made for Farbauti to come to Asgard, a farewell feast is had, and the king and his sons return home.

The brothers are highly animated when they get back to Asgard. Excited about how well everything went. Filling Frigga in on every detail. Loki tells her that seal is an agreeable meat, and that he ate fish so as not to offend his hosts, charming his tongue so as not to taste it.

Thor will eat anything. It hadn't really occurred to him that it's possible to dislike a food so greatly.

They return to their studies with Halldis. These days they find it easier to focus on healing, and opt to spend the whole of their days with her now, temporarily abandoning their sparring.

She is still taking Thor and Loki to attend births during these lessons. Thor is so excited he can't stop smiling. It's impossible to look at Thor when he's like this and not be swept up in his mirth. Loki beams beside his brother. They learn how to coach new mothers to breathe and push. When to kick out their husbands if they're doing more harm than good - or if they're likely to faint. How to cast a spell on the edge of the birth canal so that it isn't torn when the fit is too tight. To slice and tie the cord. To cut the child from the womb when the birth isn't forthcoming. To compound a draught to dull the pain. Make unguents to sooth stretched skin and sore nipples. They feel drunk with mirth and fulfillment.

Thor goes to a tavern with his friends one evening while Loki is bent over a book and refuses to be parted from it. Someone asks about the scar on Thor's neck and he tells of Loki’s saving him from Thanos. Others in the tavern hear. Most of them are pleased that good has come of Loki, that he is a loving brother to their king, but a few won't take it at face value. They say it's part of a plot to win Thor's trust. He'll try to trick him out of the throne. That Loki wants it back again.

Loki hears it all from the couch in the cave where he's reading.

I can't win, Loki thinks.

Thor comes home warm and sad and tasting like wine, lips stained dark with it and hair drenched with melting snow from the storm that followed him home. And Loki forgets about the rest of the realms and makes sloppy love to Thor in their nest of Midgardian fluff. Thor brightens instantly.

Farbauti will be coming to Asgard tomorrow.

Thor is fidgeting with excitement, though that's more or less Thor's natural state. He is always wiggling. At first Loki found it irritating, but then realized it was unfair to fault Thor for being himself. Now, if Thor rocks his leg or wiggles his feet in bed, Loki does the same to keep from being bothered.

Loki decides to give Thor something to focus his energy on, climbing on top of him and kissing him hello. Thor spreads his legs wide and Loki fucks him so slowly he's shaking with exertion halfway through, but he hangs on. Thor is arching and grunting under him. Loki has Thor's hands held in his own and won't let Thor touch himself. Won't touch Thor's cock with anything but the occasional brush of his belly. Thor starts begging. Loki can't decide whether to reward it or prolong it. He does a bit of both, lowering his body to trap Thor's cock between them, giving him a taste of friction, but keeping their fingers laced together beside Thor's head. Then Thor's voice goes all breathy, the way it would if he were weeping, and Loki lifts his body again to make room, wrapping his arms behind Thor's neck while Thor reaches both hands between them to cup his balls and stroke his cock until he spends with a whine, seed splashing his throat. Loki thrusts a few more times and pulls out, spilling on Thor's chest, to Thor's approving moans.

That night Loki has a nightmare about thousands of Jotnar dying in childbirth, their babes dying with them, grown too big to pass through the birth canal.  He wakes to Thor shaking him and asking what's wrong. Loki had been sobbing and shouting in his sleep.

Farbauti and Byleistr arrive at the Bifrost and opt to walk to the palace beside Odin. When they near the gates, Thor and Loki meet them. Loki shifts Jotun and embraces Farbauti, and now everyone knows it isn't a glamour, because Loki should have been burned. The soldiers spread word of Loki's heritage. Say he's not an Odinson.

Farbauti, Byleistr, Frigga, Thor and Loki sit with Odin in his library and talk for much of the afternoon.

Loki tells the kings of his dream. Farbauti says he knows already, and he would be grateful if Frigga could come to help the Giants who will give birth to full size Jotnun babies. Odin says Halldis, Loki, Thor, Frigga and himself will all go to help. Most of the children will need to be cut from the womb.

Farbauti tells him that there will still plenty of smaller babes: at least one in ten births was small even when they had the Casket. Thor makes a pained sound and he and Loki gape, horrified by what life must have been like for those pregnant in Jotunheim under Laufey's long rule. It would be clear they bore runts throughout much of their pregnancy. Their bellies would be nearly flat. They'd have to carry the child to term, all the while knowing it would be taken from them and left to die while they were too weak to walk or fight back.

They make plans to continue meeting like this, the two families traveling back and forth between their realms, giving their people a chance to grow accustomed to both the sight and to thinking of them as allies.

  
  


7 Doubt

 

Loki cast a spell years ago to let him hear any mention of himself. He was so rarely spoken of in Asgard it would startle him when unseen voices whispered about him. They never had anything nice to say, and that has not changed. It's worse now that it is widely known he's Jotnar.

Thor is meeting with Odin and Loki gets bored, so he casts a spell that causes one of his doubles to appear – naked, with an erection and a vat of oil, asking, “Did I hear my name,” - in front of anyone who says ergi or argr. The words fade from use almost overnight.

Thor’s coronation is held in the city square and it's sunny and bright, though the winter air is chilly. Loki warms the area with seidr. There are no seats. Many citizens arrived in the very early hours of morning to claim spots as close to the dais as possible. The nobles look grumpy, having expected to be seated close to the king. But Thor has always been fond of farmers and craftsmen, for he is a physical creature, and they are the ones who have furnished his existence and grown the food that fed him.

Frigga stands behind Odin, Loki stands behind Thor. Thor kneels before his father, Odin takes the crown from his own head and sets it atop Thor's. Thor rises. They embrace. And it's done.

“Long live the king!” Loki and Frigga shout, and the cry is echoed by all assembled.

Tables and benches are wheeled out and there's a feast.

Odin and Frigga depart early so as not to distract from Thor's day.

Thor sits with his brother and their friends at a table in the center with benches only on one side. Any who wish to speak to him are welcome to do so. The lack of seats on the visitors' side keeps the flow of people moving: no one can park themselves there and monopolize the king. Loki tries not to roll his eyes when his brother beams at pregnant women. They recognize some of the ladies and greet them by name. Halldis has been introducing them to any who are near birth and inquiring whether Thor and Loki might be present to practice their skills as healers when the time comes. No one has declined.

The brothers return to their room for the night.  Loki shift his skin and crunches his ice.

“My king,” he purrs, and Thor clutches him tight and tells himself it's true, still not quite believing it, for he feels no different. “What will you have tonight?”

Thor kisses his way to Loki's cock and sucks it until Loki spills, then lies down on his back.

Loki quirks a brow at him and Thor takes a deep breath.

“I want you to ride my tongue,” Thor says, and Loki hums.

Loki moves to climb on, and Thor is surprised when he turns his back to him. He had envisioned watching Loki's face, but it seems Loki envisions watching Thor's cock. And tormenting it.

But Thor soon finds that this is entirely to his liking. He can spread Loki's pert cheeks apart to see his anus twitching in front of him. He teases it with the pads of his thumbs and pokes it with the tip of his nose, making Loki squeal and chuckle and choke Thor's cock in retaliation. The wetness within Loki's quim drips down onto Thor's waiting tongue and trickles out the corners of his mouth. They pass almost an hour like this, until, finally, Loki's legs are trembling so much Thor can't focus, so he nudges Loki up and lays him on his side, facing him. He pulls Loki's leg up over his hip and Loki curls his pelvis toward Thor until he can feel the head of Thor's cock at the mouth of his cunt. Then Thor grabs Loki's ass and heaves him forward, sliding Thor's prick deep into sodden warmth. They groan and rest like that until Loki is calm and settled and Thor glides into him until they're both moaning against each other's jaws.

A few days later Odin tells them he and Frigga are going to visit Alfheim.

“You seem weary,” Thor says, sitting with Odin in the library. “Are you going to sleep on Alfheim?”

“No, I'll not rest there. I am weary, but it is not for want of sleep.”

Odin doesn't explain himself any further. Thor fears he's had a troubling vision of the future.

With Odin and Frigga no longer on the realm to bring breezes, clouds, and occasional rain, Loki has to remind Thor to do it more often. Or goad him into doing it. He likes riling Thor up into a stormy mood. Taunting him with seidr Thor can't hope to match. Stealing Mjolnir and smacking her head with his cock, binding Thor with spells until he can't move and saying obscene things to him, making Thor's cheeks burn because he can't hide how much he likes it, and how much he wants it. Loki keeps at it until the sky is black and white with storm clouds and lightning, and then he sets Thor free and lifts his hands in surrender and Thor fucks him until their voices are gone with shouting, or he begs Loki to love him to bruises.

Loki visits their parents on Alfheim. Frigga has been testing dyes she's making with the local flora. He helps her collect berries.

Odin has been raising a staggering number of chickens, turkeys, and geese and planting crops as far as the eye can see.

“I never knew you fancied yourself a farmer,” Loki says.

“Needs must,” Odin says.

The answer unnerves Loki. Odin is planning something, which is both reassuring and worrying.

Thor is fretting. Reading all the time. He wants peace with all the realms. He doesn't have to worry about Midgard, Alfheim, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, or Helheim. And he supposes Niflheim is hopeless - Nidhogg probably isn't meant as an ally. But Muspelheim and Svartalfheim gnaw at him.

“You don't need to do everything on your first day,” Loki soothes. “Let yourself get used to the throne. See to Asgard first. Your own people don't yet know what kind of king you'll be. We can worry about what the other realms think when you're better settled.

Thor nods and smiles and thinks himself lucky. He finds clever ways to show his gratitude.

Loki is not actually vain. He's insecure, fastidious, and beautiful, and the combination has earned him an undeserved reputation for narcissism. He kept a mirror in his room to help him keep his secrets as much as to make sure he had his clothes on straight. It was an invaluable tool when he was learning to cast glamours. And mirrors are a necessity when you're trying to make sure you haven't left the evidence of seidr – ash, blood, cuts, scrapes, bruises, minor burns – on your person for anyone to see. Thor has never been one to stare into mirrors. If he's worried about how he looks, he'll ask a friend's opinion. Loki doesn't practice new seidr in their cave, and he's adept at casting glamours now, so he did not put a mirror in their home. He will kick himself for it.

In the sparring arena, Sif is leading palace guards in mock-battles, devising and practicing formations and defenses. Thor joins them.

Thor's hair begins to annoy him and he ties it back.

“Norns, save us,” a guard says. “A draugr has been at our prince.”

Thor quirks a brow.

“There's a bite on your neck, my lord.”

Thor nods. Sif goes tense, waiting for the question.

“Have you found your queen?” the man asks.

“My king,” Thor answers.

Loki can hear every word of this exchange from the quiet of their cave where he's reading. He curses and listens closely. Nothing more is said. Not even after sparring is finished and Thor has left the bath.

“With whom did you spar today?” Loki asks, casually, when Thor returns.

“Sif and some palace guards.”

Loki nods. The palace guards are loyal creatures, he marvels, deeply pleased.

As the weeks go on, a pattern arises. Thor is tense all day and restless in the evenings. He paces the palace halls, scowling. He brings deafening storms. By midnight Thor is settled and makes quiet love to Loki in either of their rooms. Or up in their cave. Sometimes out in the snow.

One night Thor comes home shaking with pent up tears, Loki asks him what's wrong.

“It isn't going to work,” Thor says, sadly, and Loki wonders when Thor is going to leave him.

Loki invites Byleistr to come for a few days. The Aesir made no objection to Pepper's visit, so, in theory, they should have none to the presence of another ally.

Loki shifts his skin and meets the giant in the sparring arena, where they fight with ice and fists and seidr. Thor watches, thrilled and terrified. Byleistr is huge. Thor is afraid Loki will be pulverized. But his brother is quick, and clever, and has Odin's magic at his fingertips. In the end, Loki tricks his other brother, startling him with a glamour of an enormous Fire Giant, then leaping onto Byleistr's back and pressing a blade to his throat.

“You'd have to hope I didn't fall on you, little prince,” the grinning giant says.

“Aye,” Loki laughs. “I've been hoping it all this time.”

The palace guards who are on hand are delighted by the contest. Loki has always kept so much of his seidr hidden from them, though they've watched him all his life. They yell and cheer, offering the two parched combatants swigs from their canteens.

The soldiers back from outposts are not so pleased by this display. It still troubles them that a Frost Giant is now first in line for Asgard's throne. And he's a friend to the Jotnar. And a mage as much as a warrior. And he might be able to best Thor in battle.

Loki's blood comes. He has memorized the arc it follows. In the beginning, his belly is swollen. Not enough for anyone to notice, just enough to make him uncomfortable in his clothes. Then the cramping begins and makes him miserable. The blood follows in full force and it's a nuisance - constant and uncomfortable and messy, and he can smell it no matter how many times he cleans himself up. It makes him snappish and impatient as well as lusty and distracted. This will be the first time Thor will witness the whole thing. He wonders what his brother will make of it.

Loki has also noticed, each time he bleeds, that all through the week he feels the weight of sadness resting more heavily on him. His old wounds seem to chafe and throb. Hopelessness and heartache rise unbidden and unwelcome at the forefront of his mind. Things in which he would ordinarily take delight are warped into tragedies. He sees a doe silhouetted against the snow that sparkles on a hillside at sunset and can think only that the lovely creature will soon be lost to time. That everyone will. That life is a battle that's already been lost, and to live it is merely to let the realms toy with you before they finally take your life, like cats torturing mice.

He hasn't mentioned any of these things to Thor, of course, for he's self-conscious about them, and only just coming to terms with the whole thing himself.

So he loses patience with his brother for things that wouldn't merit his attention at any other time. He listens to Thor eating his dinner and has to get up and leave the table, he's so aggravated by the sound, though Thor is behaving as he always has. If you told Loki that the majority of murders are committed after a shared meal it wouldn't surprise him in the least.

“What's wrong?” Thor asks.

“Nothing,” Loki snarls, and he can't tell whether it's a lie or the truth, and that's unbearable.

And he sees Thor's brow twist and his lips turn down at the corners and then he feels wretched and guilty and undeserving of love for senselessly sniping at his brother.

Thor clears the table and kisses Loki, saying he'll be right back.

Loki uses this time alone to cry about something he couldn't explain if he tried, possibly because it is, actually, nothing.

Thor comes back with a little glass of cloudy liquid.

“For the aches,” Thor says, offering it, and Loki downs it in one go, murmuring thanks and apologies.

Thor draws them a bath not long after that and Loki remains on the couch, reading and feeling anxious, while Thor strips and climbs into the pool.

“Come on,” Thor says, patting the top of the water beside him as though it's a cushion, sending up little splashes and making wet slapping sounds. “The heat and the weightlessness will help with the pain,” Thor says.

“How would you know?” Loki grumbles.

“I'm hardly a stranger to sore muscles,” Thor says.

“You're a stranger to these,” Loki answers.

“Aye, but Sif isn't.”

“Mmmm.”

“It's just a bit of blood, you cow, get over here.”

Loki sighs and sets down his book. He fidgets with his hair and then Thor knows his brother is nervous.

“Please? I'll give you a back-rub,” Thor bribes, reaching for Loki and wiggling his fingers.

Damn it. I do want one of those, Loki thinks, and sighs, defeated.

Loki takes his clothes off and cleans the little cushion he's had between his legs. He cups a hand under his quim so he doesn't bleed onto the rugs and steps into the bath. Thor pulls him onto his lap so that Loki's back is pressed to his chest and kisses his neck. He wraps his fingers around Loki's hips and presses his thumbs into the meat of his lower back, rubbing slowly in firm circles. Loki hums gratefully and relaxes against Thor's skin. And then Thor's fingers slide around to Loki's belly, pressing deep into the soft flesh just above his cock, and that feels wonderful.

“How the Hel did you know to do this?” Loki asks, between satisfied grunts, talking half to himself.

“I've seen Sif do it often enough.”

“I'm in her debt,” Loki says.

Loki's cramps finally fade and he wades off to bathe. Thor does the same, but Loki can feel his brother's gaze on his skin all the while.

They towel off and Loki puts on smallclothes and sets a cushion in them before climbing into bed. Thor follows with a towel still around his neck and lies down beside Loki, pressing his nose into his throat and tracing the muscles of Loki's abdomen.

“Feeling better?” Thor asks, and Loki nods.

Thor tips Loki's face toward his own with a finger on his chin and brushes their lips together softly, moving around to suck Loki's earlobe and nuzzle his damp hair, sweet with soaps and warm from water. He shifts to rest atop his brother, feeling Loki's cock pressing up against his own through thin fabric. He kisses him and licks into the wet heat of his mouth until Loki's hips lift involuntarily.

He gets up and crouches astride Loki's thighs, running his hands slowly over his pale breast, tickling and caressing his waist, pressing in gently above his cock in a careful massage, then scooting down the bed and shuffling their legs so that Loki's are parted and he's kneeling between them.

Thor takes the towel off of his shoulders and folds in in quarters.

“Lift your hips for me,” Thor says, and Loki complies.

Thor lays the towel under his brother's behind and then raises Loki's legs straight up in the air and reaches to slide his smallclothes off.

Loki's hands dart down to stop Thor's fingers and he pulls his knees down into his chest.

“I'm bleeding.”

“I know that,” Thor chuckles.

“I'm a mess.”

“I put a towel down.”

“We could just wait,” Loki says, not entirely wanting to.

“How long does your blood last?”

“Six to nine days.”

“And how often does it come?” Thor asks.

“Every three months. Why?”

“So, in a year, you would go untouched for twenty-four to thirty-six days... and in a century, you'd forgo sex anywhere from six-and-a-half to nearly ten years.”

Loki releases Thor's fingers, straightens his legs, and lifts his hips off the bed.

Thor takes off Loki's smallclothes. A red string of fluid hangs between Loki's quim and the garment and Thor pulls them apart until it breaks and falls back onto Loki's skin.

Thor lays Loki's legs beside his own on the bed and bends forward. Loki's prick is hiding inside his body once more. Thor kisses the little jumble of folded flesh that's piled up at its tip and lures Loki's cock out with his tongue. He drags the end of his nose up and down Loki's shaft as it bobs in front of him, knocking against his face. He tilts his head sideways and tugs the foreskin down with his lips before straightening out and licking a stripe from base to tip.

Thor can smell the blood on Loki's skin, salty, ripe, and metallic. On his next pass he runs his tongue between Loki's balls, over his quim, and up to the tip of his prick.

“Thor!” Loki gasps.

“Hmmm?”

“It's-”

“It's fine,” Thor says, and licks him again.

Fertility god, Loki's brain sings, reminding him.

Thor keeps licking and then darts his tongue into Loki's body.

Loki squeaks.

“Are you sore?” Thor asks, pausing.

“No,” Loki breathes.

Thor's tongue resumes its licking and plunging and Loki lets his legs fall apart a little more. Thor smiles and presses his face in further. His lips tug on the folds of Loki's cunt, sliding over them, pulling and pressing them, sending wet smacking sounds into the air to mingle with Loki's moans.

“If I went by the noises you're making, I'd have to assume you were going to eat me,” Loki laughs, breathlessly.

“Who says I'm not?” Thor grins.

“So you're a cannibal now?”

“Did you think incest was the depth of my depravity?” Thor asks, between kisses.

“Aye. It seems I've underestimated you again. Or overestimated you, depending upon one's opinion of cannibalism.”

They giggle and then it melts away into more moans as Thor's tongue slides over Loki's skin again. He sucks Loki's cock until it twitches and spills down his throat.

When Thor finally looks up, Loki's eyes go wide and he starts laughing.

“You really do look like a cannibal,” Loki says, for Thor's mouth and cheeks are streaked with  blood.

Thor grins and pulls Loki's hips up onto his lap, pressing his cock down into the mouth of Loki's quim and then dragging Loki even closer, impaling him. Thor's cock strains upward inside of Loki, and the pressure on the front wall of his cunt is delicious.

Thor takes his brother by the hips and drags him up and down the length of his shaft until he's shaking, spending with a breathy grunt.

He washes them off and slides Loki's smallclothes back on before curling up against Loki's side, kissing his right cheekbone and rubbing his belly.

“All right?” Thor murmurs, and Loki nods.

Thor tugs up the blankets and tucks them around their bodies

“What does it taste like?” Loki whispers, for he hasn't worked up the nerve to try it himself.

Thor shrugs and thinks a moment.

“Part of it tastes the way you always taste. Earthy and tart. But there's the copper tang of blood, too, and something both sweet and savory. Fleshy, I suppose.”

Loki hums.

  
  


8 Resignation

 

Peace with Jotunheim is ultimately taken badly by Asgard once the nobility, who are older and more conservative than most of the realm, start seeing Frost Giants in their city as Loki hosts Farbauti and Byleistr, and bunches of his cousins, and visits them in turn. They suspect Loki of being a traitor and Thor of being a thrall, under Loki's spell. Snorre is not the only hateful relic of Asgard's past. And, like him, the others have money, power, and influence. They're convinced he's paving the way for Jotunheim to ascend Asgard's throne. That he'll turn the Realm Eternal into the frozen waste they assume Jotunheim to be.

Many of the soldiers find it's in their best interest to reject this peace: they'll be out of jobs if Thor succeeds in making allies of everyone, and they don't want to learn some other trade. They say they represent the people of Asgard, by which they mean the nobles, and that they are not the king's to command.

The nobles request a meeting with Thor in the city square. It has been cleared of vendors and is filled with soldiers when they get there. Loki is uneasy. Snorre rises to speak for the assembly, backed by his own guards. Loki spies Brede's face among their ranks.

“Our quarrel is not with you, Odinson. We cannot abide a Jotnar in line for the throne. He has bewitched you. He will trade your life for the crown and then he'll give it to Jotunheim. Send him away -  to Nidhogg or back to his own kind – and you shall have no trouble from us.”

Loki almost can't believe it. He has never been more on their side. Never been a better ally to Asgard because now it is Thor's. And still they doubt him. It makes no sense. He and Thor are so much alike. Thor is a mage, just as he is. And Thor has avoided dalliances just as he has. They have both returned from battles whole and alive. Both are strong warriors. And yet only Loki is thought of as argr. They have both killed innocents, Thor on Jotunheim and Loki on Midgard. But only the deaths on Midgard are counted as losses by the Aesir. The Jotnar are still thought of as beasts.

Loki casts a terrifying glamour of wolves and serpents to startle those present and laughs when they cower. The vision disappears with him.

“Do you truly wish him gone?” Thor asks of the assembly.

“Aye,” comes the answer, and Thor gives a mirthless laugh.

“When I was a boy, my mother warned me to be careful of what I wished for,” Thor says, almost to himself, but they hear him and a chill shoots unexpected up their spines. “All who wish Loki to leave Asgard, kneel.”

Only Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and the guards who escorted them from the halls of the palace remain standing.

“So be it,” Thor says.

Thor looks at the men assembled before him and longs to call to Mjolnir. To leave these cowards charred and twisted in the streets. But then he feels strange. The spell in his bones is pulling at him harder than it ever has before. He calls to the Bifrost.

*************

Loki returns to his old room after his little illusion. Thor would have been angry if he'd killed everyone with seidr. Probably.

He is nervous. He worries Thor will hate him for this - for once again being at the center of unrest. A darkness has grown in Thor lately. He's distracted and stormy all day, only snapping out if late in the evenings. Loki is afraid Thor's going to leave him.

And then he hears Thor's words to the soldiers and nobles - “So be it” -  and they rend his heart. He crumples to the floor and gapes, beyond tears.

I brought this pain on my own head, Loki thinks. I let myself hope. This is price paid for optimism.

He makes up his mind to leave. He fetches the braid of hair he cut from Thor's head and puts it in his pocket. Tries to think of somewhere Thor won't find him. And then he remembers the potion he gave Thor for Christmas. It will lead Thor to him, wherever he hides.

The perils of allowing yourself to be ruled by sentiment, Loki thinks.

He looks at his bed, unmade and jumbled from the hours he and Thor have spent in it. He sees the burning figures embroidered on his quilt and takes his inspiration from them.

On Muspelheim Loki shifts Jotnar and lies down on the cracked plains of basalt. The light and the heat are unbearable in this form. The ground sizzles and cracks beneath him. His eyes sting and his flesh sweats out frost, trying desperately and hopelessly to protect him. He hears it hiss as it melts and hits the ground.

I won't die a good death, he realizes. But even if I had, what difference would it have made? I'm a Frost Giant and Thor's an Asgardian god. We were always going to be separated sooner or later. He'll fall, blazing and beautiful in battle for some glorious cause and then he'll reign in Valhalla... and I'll burn.

Loki could swear he sees Thor's face before his vision fails. If he could move his lips he'd smile.

 

9 Muspelheim

 

Thor finds his brother on the ground, blue skin blistering. He picks him up and Loki's body is so warm from the heat of this realm that the touch doesn't wound Thor's fingers. Thor takes him straight to Niflheim, plunging them both into Hvergelmir. He keeps an eye out for Nidhogg and waits. When Loki's skin is once again able to bite Thor's own, he travels to Odin, who seems to have been waiting for him. Odin heals the burns and shifts Loki's skin and Thor is relieved to find it smooth and pale, free of injury. They murmur spells over his body and pour water into his slack mouth.

“Take him to the spring by those hills,” Odin says, pointing at the horizon. “Hold him in the water for the rest of the day.”

Thor nods and thanks his father, who squeezes his shoulder.

The pebbled bottom of the spring rolls under Thor's bare feet. He stands, breast-deep in it, cradling Loki in his arms, keeping all but Loki's face submerged. Thor panics for a minute when he sees the water between Loki's legs turning pink, but then realizes it's just the last of Loki's menses. His brother is in a deep sleep.

When Thor returns that night Loki is still unconscious. Odin tends the burns on Thor's fingers while Thor sits motionless, silently weeping.

“Take him somewhere safe and quiet and let him sleep,” Odin murmurs. “When he wakes... there are things he needs to hear, though he has likely heard them already. He may need to hear them for the rest of his life...”

Thor nods.

Loki opens his eyes to a low white ceiling

Death looks an awful lot like Midgard, he thinks idly, and turns his head to see Thor sleeping beside him, looking haggard and lovely. They're in their room in Stark tower.

He's impossible, Loki thinks. I'm going to have all the mules in all the realms re-named “Thor.”

He feels ashamed of himself. And his heart is still in shivers in his breast. Banished again, when he'd finally felt at home. Thor must have come to say farewell and found me. And that's unbearable – the thought of saying goodbye. Of remaining civil and polite and accepting throughout something as abhorrent as being willingly parted. And surely Thor will hate me now if he didn't already. He knew this would wound Thor, but he did it anyway, thinking he would be spared the aftermath. But here is music left to face. He feels like a failure, doubly. I've cocked this up twice, now. I've failed at failing. He huffs a bitter laugh.

When Thor wakes he sees his brother sitting cross-legged in front of him on the bed. Chin down, lips drawn tight, eyes downcast, broad shoulders turned in. He looks so beautiful - the length of his nose with its undulating bridge and perky nostrils, the jut of his cheekbones and the hollows underneath – this is an ideal angle for viewing the structure of his face, framed and brightened by the contrast of black curls. The vision would be be perfect were it not for the sadness clinging to every inch of that pale skin. It sinks Loki's bright eyes in shadow and tugs the corners of his mouth down with a weight Thor can feel.

Thor is well aware of his own worst fears, and he knows Loki loves him, so he's certain he can guess what Loki is worried about, but he can't understand why.

“You always assume the worst,” Thor says.

“It keeps me safe.”

“It doesn't.”

Loki's eyes widen as he realizes his brother is right.

“What went through your lovely head?” Thor whispers.

“They wanted me to leave. I left. I'll trouble you no more.”

“What?”

“Did you think I hadn't noticed?

“Noticed what?” Thor says.

“You've been so angry of late,” Loki answers. “I never meant to cause you grief.”

“You thought I was angry with you?”

“Who else?” Loki asks

“With Asgard.”

“What?”

“They've done nothing but lie about you.”

Loki snorts.

“What do you expect, Thor? I'm the god of lies. Why should I not be surrounded by them?”

“You are the god of mischief. Do not sully yourself with their slander, brother.”

“Did they say these things where you could hear them?”

“Not until the assembly in the square,” Thor admits. “I cast a spell to let me listen weeks ago. I can hear any mention of us. Of our family. Of Farbauti and Jotunheim.”

“That's why,” Loki breathes, understanding.

“What's why?”

“You'd been so strange. Angry and distracted for days. But each night you were kinder to me than the last. I thought you were saying goodbye.”

“Norns,” Thor sighs, rolling onto his back. “I never meant to let it wear on you. They shut their mouths when they slept at night. It was the only time I had peace.”

“I know,” Loki nods. “I use the same spell to hear what's said of me.”

Thor makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat.

“How long have you had their hate in your ears?”

“Ages,” Loki shrugs, and Thor covers his face in his hands.

“I'm so sorry,” Thor says, and Loki huffs.

“Don't be. You're the one owed apologies. I was going to run off and hide like a child. But then I remembered you'd be able to find me wherever I went. So I needed to go where you couldn't follow. I'm sorry,” Loki says, eyes wide and wet, head shaking. “I have no excuse, Thor. My first thought is ever of escape.”

“That was not escape, love. That was surrender,” Thor says sadly, and his jaw tightens and nostrils flare.

“And now I've wounded you,” Loki continues. “Could you believe me if I told you I don't want to leave you, but that I would do it to spare you grief and ease your way?”

“Aye, brother. I believe it. But there's no need. There is nothing they can do to me that would wound me worse than the loss of you. Don't put your neck in the noose for them.”

“Thor, it's only a matter of time before we're separated.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You'll go to Valhalla and I'll be lucky to end up in a column of ice with the rest of my kin.”

“I'll not go to Valhalla,” Thor says, squeezing Loki's knee.

Loki looks at Thor as though he's a simpleton.

“Don't be absurd. Of course you will. You're certainly not going to Hel. The realms wouldn't stand for it.”

“Sweetheart,” Thor whispers, “We're not going anywhere. We're staying in Helgafjell.”

Loki goes still and hears his heart in his ears. Cold sweat runs down his sides from under his arms. His lips pop open and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“No,” Loki breathes. “No, it couldn't be. It isn't. Thor, it isn't. Don't jest.”

Thor runs his finger in circles around Loki's knee.

“When I first found the cave I asked Father if he knew of it. If that peak had a name,” Thor says. “When he said 'Helgafjell' I took it to mean the stories were merely myth. But then, two months ago, you put a hearth in it. And I knew.”

Loki shakes his head no.

“I'm going to die an old man, by your side, in our mountain,” Thor says.

“You can't know that.”

“I'm told I'm quite stubborn,” Thor smiles. “I'll see it done.”

Loki sobs and Thor tugs him down onto the bed and lays him out on his back. He wraps a heavy arm around Loki's chest and throws a leg over his thighs, staring out the window at Midgard's strange glass buildings and hazy blue sky.

“I thought they would see you as you are, but they still see only their fears and old fictions...” Thor murmurs, shaking his head. “Where shall we go?”

Loki turns to look at Thor, puzzled, face wet, eyes swollen with tears.

“What do you mean?”

“Shall we visit Mother and Father?” Thor asks.

“Why?”

“We're leaving.”

“You can't be serious,” Loki says.

“I am.”

“Thor, you're the king.”

“I'm yours,” Thor says. “They wished me away.”

Loki raises his eyebrows.

“Well,” Loki murmurs after a moment, “I always wanted to take you to see all the worlds. To learn them by sight. By their flora and fauna and stars and earth. We can still travel safely. The Bifrost is beyond the realms. It belongs to your line... and to Heimdall, but surely he is on your side in this.”

Thor hums.

They go first to Asgard to make a few final arrangements. 

Thor speaks with Heimdall while his brother tends to the realm.

Loki protects his favorite places. Frigga's gardens. The pine forest where he and Thor first made love and the lake at its center where their friend the turtle lives. The stream and meadow where they learned to swim. Idunn's orchards. He seals them all with frost, wrapping them in winter and putting them to sleep to wait out what's to come. Then he protects the palace itself and their cave in the mountain, shielding them from enemies with heavy webs of seidr.

Thor tells his friends they may leave now, or stay to help the citizens. That Heimdall will be watching all the while. That things will be ugly and strange. They opt to stay on Asgard as long as they're able, as Thor had expected they would. He beams at them and they embrace.

“If you need me, you have only to call my name,” Thor says. “I am ever your brother in arms.”

Thor asks the guards to look after those who cannot look after themselves.

He doesn't cede the throne. No one who sits on it can see anything from it: it is bound with Odin's magic and knows his kin. Loki realizes that the name of Odinson is, indeed, his birthright, for when he took the throne during his banishment, he was able to see the realms. He and Thor sit on it together, taking stock of the state of the worlds and then Loki packs up all their possessions with seidr and seals their hall.

They return to Alfheim to see their parents, who tell them it is out of their hands for the time being, so they shouldn't waste time worrying about it. Loki spies a hatchling in Odin's front pocket and sees him slipping bugs and berries into its peeping mouth. Softhearted, he thinks, amused. I should have known.

Thor walks with Odin.

“You make a fine king,” Odin tells him. “The fault is not with your rule.”

“It feels no less like failure,” Thor says, and Odin squeezes his arm.

“Some lessons must be learned the hard way. The Aesir are in need of education.”

Loki walks with Frigga.

“Mother, is it Helgafjell? Truly?”

“Aye, love.”

She takes him into her pretty linen tent, with its ceiling strung high and its soothing diffuse light, and they sit on low cushions of bright colors. He looks through her sketches and paintings. Lovely studies of plants and animals in delicate washes of ink and watercolor.

“You've been busy,” he says smiling.

“You've been sad,” she says, slipping her arm around his waist, and he bends his lips to her shoulder to hide his face. “You were such a happy babe,” she whispers. “Don't let the realms rob you of your nature.”

He nods and she kisses the top of his head and then rests her nose there a moment, breathing in the scent of his hair. It has changed as he's grown, but there's a base note that has endured throughout his life. Something sweet and rich, like sugared milk, hiding beneath the herbs and musk that came with manhood. Her baby is still hidden in the body of this god. He will always be young to her. Nothing can reduce the gap between their years. The thought makes her smile.

Thor uses Mjolnir to plow some fields for Odin, holding her straight out overhead, tilted at an angle to the land, flying behind her through the dirt. Loki and Frigga laugh and cheer him on. By the end of it he's completely covered in earth. He looks like a blob of mud with two blue eyes plunked into it. Even his ears are full of it, and there are grubs and worms stuck to him, wriggling. Odin picks them off and feeds them to his hatchling. Thor laughs and thanks it for its appetite.

Loki cleans Thor up with seidr and they bathe in a river. The scent of earth lingers on Thor's skin. Loki likes it.

Frigga lends them pelts and a quilt and the brothers sleep under Alfheim's strange stars.

When Loki wakes, it's to the sensation of Thor's index finger gliding back and forth between the hollow of his throat and the tip of his chin, bouncing over the apple in the middle.

“Where shall we go next?”

“Back to Midgard, if you don't mind. I didn't see Pepper at all when we were there the other day and I wish to remedy that.”

Thor nods.

Loki and Pepper take off to tour art museums and Thor uses the privacy to conspire with Jarvis. He can't speak for fear of Loki overhearing him with seidr, so he types his questions to the man of wire and electricity that lives in the walls of Stark's home.

Thor takes to the keyboard readily. It allows him to engage both of his hands, rather than leaving his left with the dull task of steadying parchment. And Jarvis reminds him of his mother, in that he has all the answers. But, unlike Frigga, Jarvis is able to part with them.

Thor grows agitated on Midgard. Secretive and jumpy. Loki can't tell why. But he hears no talk of himself, or, indeed, of any other subject. He worries that Thor is just sitting around fretting. Feeling guilty. Growing tired of him, or frightened of him, or disappointed in him. Growing impatient with being kept away from Asgard. He fears that Thor regrets his decision to leave the throne. Fears Thor will leave.

Loki tells Pepper of his concerns and she begs him to believe her when she says that they're unfounded. That he needs to stop being such a pessimist. She grabs him by the ears and makes him promise he'll trust her. He sighs and smiles and acquiesces.

Tony is irked that two gorgeous gods seem to have stolen his girlfriend and his AI.

“What's Thor up to, Jarvis?” Stark asks.

“Research.”

“He's not trying to find out what pop-tarts are made of, is he? 'Cause that'll be a sad day.”

“He's doing a survey of related traditions across a number of cultures throughout recorded history,” Jarvis answers.

“Uh huh,” Tony says.

Loki and Thor join Pepper for the afternoon, shopping and dining and walking through parks, then flopping onto the couch to eat ice cream and watch a movie. The film follows a soldier with the face of a doe. An officer with a face like a lion's tries to steer the fey fellow away from death. He fails, of course. Midgardian warfare is ugly, but the film twists it into poetry somehow. This is where Midgard's seidr lives, Loki thinks.

They sigh their goodnights and toddle off to bed.

Thor is curled behind Loki with an arm around his belly, their bodies cooling in the air, sheets kicked down past their feet. Loki's pulse is slowing. Thor's is not. Loki can feel it drumming against his back.

“All right?” Loki asks.

“Aye,” Thor answers and kisses the spot behind his ear.

Thor reaches to fiddle with his pillow and then goes up on his elbow, leaning forward to kiss Loki's cheek, blond hair tickling Loki's forehead. Loki can hear his brother's heart, still beating double time in his breast. Thor's arm wraps around him once more and his hand falls open on the pillow before Loki's face. There's a half-round ring of gold lying heavy in the center of Thor's palm, text engraved all along the inside:Yours, Thor Vermundr Ari Peach Odinson

“Will you have me?” Thor murmurs, voice warm against the thin skin of Loki's neck.

Loki takes a deep shaky breath and then Thor can sense seidr. A larger half-round band of platinum appears beside the circle of gold in Thor's palm, engraved with Yours, Loki Gudleifr Runi Cow Odinson

“Aye, love,” Loki breathes, nodding. “But will you have me?”

“Of course I will,” Thor whispers, nose bumping Loki's jaw as he nods.

Loki slides the band onto Thor's fourth finger and lifts his left hand so that Thor may do the same for him.

“Here, when they do this, they sometimes say, 'With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow,'” Thor murmurs.

“That's rather lovely,” Loki admits.

Loki's eyes are drawn to the ring on his finger. It makes him think of birds he's seen here on Midgard. Banded and known and watched. Remembered. He likes it.

“Have you told anyone of this?” Loki asks. 

“Just Jarvis.”

“Is this to be the extent of our wedding?"

“It can be, if you wish,” Thor says. “But our marriage would be short-lived, as Mother would almost certainly murder us.”

Loki hums.

“Hand-festa?” Loki asks.

Thor nods.

“I'll wager Mother knows some intriguing rites. Odin and Farbauti, too,” Loki says.

“And Jarvis,” Thor adds, and Loki smiles.

  
  


10 Rites

 

They pester all of their parents about rituals and set themselves to planning. And it distracts them both, which is perfect, for they were perched on the cusp of sorrow. It has put their problems in perspective. This is more important than mourning the state of Asgard or feeling embarrassed about succumbing yet again to doubt and despair.

Loki sends invitations in the form of paper birds that alight on the recipient's knee and unfold, revealing the occasion, the date, and the time. It instructs that, should one wish to attend, one need only be dressed – extravagantly - and ready to go, and transportation will be provided. Each guest is asked to bring with them a length of sturdy ribbon, two feet long.

They've chosen Vanaheim as the place, for Freyja is the goddess of love, and she approves of them. Spring is beautiful there. The date is to be Walpurgis Night. The celebration will last far into the morning, so their marriage will encompass both the day and the night, the cold and the warmth.

For nine days before the wedding they must part and fast, though Loki is required to have a small ritual meal from which he will derive no pleasure. Thor may ingest only water.

Farbauti comes to take Loki away to Jotunheim. Thor bounces back and forth between Vanaheim and Midgard, making preparations and looking longingly at food.

At the king's palace, Loki receives visits from the Jotnar elders, who give him advice for a happy marriage. Plying Thor with fish features frequently in their suggestions. Loki deems it irrelevant and mentally substitutes the word pop-tarts at any mention of the scaly creatures.

They also recommend that he be generous with his gratitude and affections, and that he find a way to change while remaining steadfast. He thinks of a tree, growing in place. He likes that.

Farbauti takes him to the mouth of a river.

“Swim to the source of this stream. There's an oyster bed. Open them and eat them until you find a pearl. Hold it on your tongue and let the current hurry you home.”

Loki nods.

It takes him six days to reach the spring-fed lake at the heart of the river. He wears his Jotnar skin and the water feels warm and silky against it. There's a pearl in the third oyster he opens. He's relieved he only has to eat three of the things, as they are chewy and slimy and vaguely fishy. The pearl he finds is round and black. His limbs are heavy from the exertion, but it takes him only one day to return to Farbauti's palace.

The king gives Loki a small box of bone lined with suede to house the pearl and tells him he is to give it to Thor. It is to serve as a reminder to them to smooth over irritations, and as evidence that something that once tore and chafed can be transformed into treasure.

Healers come to examine and bathe him before escorting him to Vanaheim.

The guest list is small by the standards of gods: Frigga, Odin, Farbauti, Byleistr, Heimdall, Freyja, Freyr, Pepper, Tony, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, Halldis, Bergljot, Steve, Banner, Natasha, Clint, Coulson - and his girlfriend Sam, and the three dozen royal guards who work near the princes' wing and have seen this coming for about nine hundred years.

Drinking begins upon arrival – Volstagg is handing out drams of something delicious and potent to the guests as they appear, slightly bewildered from their journey through the Bifrost. Once everyone is accounted for, Heimdall joins them. Clint doesn't come, but Natasha does – she has to believe people can change.

The party goers mingle and admire each other before seating themselves in chairs that are arranged in a half circle before a small round table. They're in the middle of a ring of blooming trees that remind Pepper of dogwood, looking like they've been frosted with flowers.

The guards stand in a circle around the assembly, armour glinting orange with the sinking sun. The birds are filling the last of the light with their songs. Byleistr asks everyone to take their seats.

Loki and Thor are led out, blindfolded, by their mother, each holding one of her arms. Farbauti and Odin follow, bearing a tiny box and a large one, respectively.

Frigga deposits her sons on either side of the table, with their backs to it and each other, Thor on the right, Loki on the left. She made them new silks: fitted, with high waists tied with sashes, high collars with plunging darts in the center. Loki's are black with gold embellishment and Thor's are inky blue with silver embroidery. The designs are identical. Centered over their breasts is a round pattern. An abstracted image of Mjolnir is repeated six times, her hilt resting in the center, her head fanning out. She forms a snowflake.

The kings stand facing the blind princes – Farbauti before Thor, and Odin before Loki. The queen stands beyond them at the table. She casts lights over their heads and they begin.

In the first ceremony, each suitor must beg their intended's parents for the right to their hand. Normally there are four parents. Brides beg the groom's mother for his hand and are swatted with a broom if they give unsatisfactory answers to her questions. Grooms beg the bride's father and are beaten with a switch for any inadequate explanations they give. The blindfolds serve a dual purpose; keeping the couple from seeing each other, and sparing them from having to look their in-laws in the eye.

In this case, there are two grooms, two fathers, and only one mother. Loki will beg Odin for Thor's hand, Thor will beg Farbauti for Loki's, and Frigga will beat both of her boys with switches.

Thor begins.

“My lord”, he says, bowing low before Farbauti, “I come to beg you for the hand of your son.”

“And why should I give it to you?”

“Because I like his clever tongue.”

Frigga shakes her head and whips Thor's behind.

Loki bows and begs Odin for Thor's hand.

“And why should I grant this to you?” Odin asks.

“Because his mouth pleases me,” Loki answers.

Frigga whips him and it's Thor's turn again.

“Because he's such a skilled horseman he can ride anything,” Thor tries.

He is whipped again.

“Because I've already taken the trouble of ridding him of his gag reflex,” Loki says.

“Because he's ruined me for other men,” Thor offers.

“Because it's all he's good for.”

“Because I keep him from accomplishing anything.”

“Because I get him into trouble,” Loki says.

“Because he'll sulk something awful if you say no.”

“Because it will flood if you refuse.”

“Because I know how to stop him talking,” Thor says.

“Because the things that come out of his mouth aren't half as impressive as the things I put into it.”

For the guests unfamiliar with this ceremony, it quickly becomes apparent that giving the correct answer isn't nearly as important as embarrassing as many people as possible. Steve's face is purple. Thor and Loki have been whipped for every answer they've given, and it continues in this fashion until none of the participants can keep a straight face and most of the guests from Midgard are gaping like fish.

The brothers clear their throats and settle themselves.

“Because I am his,” they say in unison, and Odin and Farbauti nod.

They turn the brothers around and remove their blindfolds.

Thor and Loki stare and grin.

“You are two halves,” Frigga tells them. “One soul in two bodies, of two realms. Tonight you shall mend what the Norns broke.”

Odin opens the box he gave his sons at Jul. They each take out the knife and cup that match their colors. They set the vessels before them on the table, hold their left hands over them, and draw the blades across their palms. They squeeze their hands into fists, pouring blood into the cups until they are brimming and then exchanging them.

This part of the ceremony is in line with what Tony was expecting.

A drop of blood does not prepare you for an entire mouthful of it, but the brothers drain their vessels, the taste of iron and salt thick on their tongues, the warmth heavy in their empty bellies. Later they will wonder if this is how Odin came to be able to touch the Frost Giants, and, if so, who his blood brother is. Or was.

Loki shifts his skin and Farbauti holds the tiny box out to him.

“Strive to be like the creature that yielded this gift,” Farbauti says.

Loki takes the pearl from him and places it on his tongue, then leans across the table. Thor bends and kisses his brother, blue bleeding over his skin from where their lips touch. Loki pushes the pearl into Thor's mouth and when they open their eyes Loki gapes at what he sees. Thor's skin is a rich blue, the whites of his eyes are crimson, his irises are purple, and his hair is still blond. The raised scars on his flesh mirror Loki's own.

Thor returns the pearl to its box and Loki shifts back into his Aesir skin. Then he reaches to shift Thor's skin for him, knowing his brother hasn't yet figured out how to do it.

“You have successfully pleaded your causes to your fathers,” Frigga says. “But you must still convince each other and your friends of your sincerity and suitability, for you will need their approval if they are to bind you.”

Thor goes first. He's crying happily before he even opens his mouth.

“You will want for nothing. You will always be forgiven. I will never leave you. And each day I shall love you more than the last.”

Blunt and true, Loki thinks, smiling at Thor's words. How very like him.

And then it's Loki's turn.

“I cannot give you my love, for it was yours ere I knew my own name. I have ever belonged to you, brother. No ceremony can alter that. Instead I will make you a promise. And I will struggle to keep it. And I will chafe under it. And I will fight it. But I will never break it. I pledge this to you, my husband: I shall not doubt your love.”

They can hear one of their guests sobbing. Volstagg, they mouth at each other, grinning.

They reach their left hands across the table and press the insides of their wrists together, wrapping their fingers around each other's forearms.

Frigga ties the first bow around their wrists and whispers blessings over them. Odin and Farbauti follow suit.

The brothers look up and ask their guests to come and bind them together further.

They weep and smile throughout the hand-festa, laughing and humming as their loved ones clap their backs and congratulate them.

By the end of it, they have a rainbow of ribbon around their limbs.

And now they must untie themselves. Each ribbon they tear or cut will be interpreted as a sign of children to come.

They take turns and have soon undone all but four of their bonds. Thor loosens one easily. The last three ribbons are from Farbauti, Odin, and Frigga. One of black, one of silver, and one of gold. They stare at their bound limbs. Neither of them entirely wants to end this ceremony. It feels like a failure of some kind, but they can't stand here for the rest of their lives, so they sigh and get on with it.

Loki works on the black ribbon, but the color makes it hard to see the knot. Thor flexes the muscles in his forearm and the knot tightens. Loki looks up at his brother and scowls. Thor blinks at him innocently. Loki keeps working at it. Thor squirms. Loki glares.

“Mind lending a hand with this?” Loki asks.

Thor braces his bound arm, slides a finger under the ribbon, and yanks it up, ripping it easily.

“A son!” Farbauti cheers.

“You were supposed to help me untie it,” Loki grumbles, brow furrowed, but Thor just hums and says, “My turn.”

Thor doesn't even try to untie his ribbon. He brings their joined wrists to his mouth and tears the strip of silver silk with his teeth. Loki's eyes go wide.

“Really?” Loki whispers.

“Aye,” Thor answers.

“A son!” Odin shouts.

Loki tugs at the bow Frigga tied around their wrists with the gold ribbon and his brow wrinkles. He presses the loose end in toward the knot, but it doesn't yield. He picks and pulls at it. Wiggles it back and forth. Rolls it between his fingers. Flicks it. It won't budge. He laughs and shakes his head. Thor has been grinning at his mother the entire time. Loki sighs, calls a tiny blade of ice to his fingertip, and severs the silk. Thor has Loki up in his arms before Loki can protest and is squeezing him and humming into his shoulder. Loki is attempting to scowl at his mother and brother, but the result is a twitching twist to his mouth that just makes him look silly.

“A daughter!” Frigga calls.

“I will be punishing you for this. All of you,” he says, catching Odin, Frigga and Farbauti's eyes. They smirk at him, conjure huge tankards of ale, clink them together, and down them simultaneously in one long pull.

Thor sets Loki down and kisses him. Farbauti picks Loki up and kisses him. Loki tries not to let on that he's enjoying it all.

And with a wave of Odin's hand, benches and laden tables appear before the guests and they crowd together to feast and drink.

Sam plays the prelude from Bach's cello Suite No. 6 for the first dance, during which all those assembled are asked to join the grooms. After that, something Asgardian plays and the brothers split up and dance with nearly all their guests, beginning with their mother. Odin and Farbauti are too deep in their cups to join in, laughing in the corner, placing bets on how soon they'll be gifted with grandchildren.

An hour later Pepper and Loki are dancing. They picked the playlist and Stark provided a sound system. When Loki had asked Thor if he had a preference for music he'd received a blank stare in answer. Loki interpreted that as license to do whatever he pleased. Pala comes on and Loki pulls Pepper in close, grinning and rubbing their noses together to the beat.

Thor and Tony are sitting together, drinking and eating too many desserts.

“Are you seeing this?” Tony says, rising from the bench, but Thor grabs him by the tails of his tux and tugs him back into his seat.

“They're dancing,” Thor nods.

“That's one way of putting it. Dude, they're making babies with their clothes on.”

Mmmhmm,” Thor agrees, tossing a heap of tiny strawberry tarts into his mouth.

“Why is this not driving you crazy?”

“What?” Thor grunts around a mouthful of dessert.

“He just married you. Minutes ago. Literally. And he's already got his... arms... his... everything around someone else. How can you let him treat you like that?”

Thor snorts and drains a flute of champagne.

“He treats me very well.”

“But-”

“Is he looking at me right now?” Thor asks.

“Nope.”

“Speaking to me?”

“Nope.”

“Touching me?”

“No! He's-”

“He is doing nothing to me, as she is doing nothing to you. Look at them. Are they full of malice?”

Tony stares.

“Do they appear to wish us harm?” Thor continues, reaching for more tarts.

“They don't even know we exist.”

“Good, then they are giving each other their full attention. Surely it would be rude to do otherwise.”

Stark stares again.

Thor eats more tarts.

Stark glares.

Thor smiles.

“We do not own them. Their joy isn't ours to award, it's theirs to seek,” Thor chirps.

“Pretty sure he just vowed – in front of witnesses – that he's yours.”

“Aye.”

Tony gapes and throws his hands wide in answer.

“The Loki I love loves dancing with Pepper Potts. He loves me no less for it.”

“Every minute he's dancing with her is a minute he's not dancing with you,” Stark tries.

“I'm not his shadow,” Thor laughs. “We'd drive each other mad if we never parted. I can dance with him tomorrow. She can have him today.”

“You're making more sense than I'm comfortable with,” Stark groans.

“You sound like him,” Thor grins, then sobers, finally tearing his gaze from the dancing pair. “On Midgard, women often live longer than men. You will, most likely, be lucky enough never to mourn her.”

Tony's stomach twists inside him. He can see the trajectory of Thor's thought, but he can't move his mouth to stop Thor's words.

“He will mourn nearly everyone he has ever loved,” Thor murmurs. “They have so little time together. I would not rob them of it. Would you?”

Tony's throat has gone tight, so he shakes his head, no. Thor claps him on the back.

“Good lad.”

Thor goes off to dance with Steve, since he knows Steve won't break. Bruce takes the seat Thor has vacated.

“What happened to you?” Banner asks.

“Gods, man. Fuckin' A,” is all Tony says.

When Pepper finally deposits Loki on Thor's arm and plops down in a chair next to Tony, Stark holds his tongue.

He won't argue with her about this. He'll lose. He's smart enough to know that she's smarter than he is. He may be a genius, but when it comes to being human, she's light years out of his league. Thor might be in her league, which is a realization that upends the order of Tony's universe. But Thor has that effect on everyone, so he isn't too bothered by it.

He can still tease her, though.

“Have fun with Johnny Castle?” Stark asks.

Pepper snorts and smiles, nodding.

“Just... tell me this much. Did he have an erection the whole time? Because-”

Pepper smacks his arm.

“You're horrible,” she says, laughing into her drink.

“That's not a no,” he counters.

She smirks and wags her eyebrows and Tony groans.

“He's rubbing off on you,” Tony gripes. “Oh God. Was he rubbing off on you? Like, are we gonna be raising Ragnarok's baby in nine months?”

She just rolls her eyes, sips her champagne and smacks his head halfheartedly.

Loki sees Frigga and Freyja talking to Rogers, who is blushing slightly. When the ladies depart a guard asks Steve to dance. Loki nudges his brother and Thor follows Loki's eyes to see the dancing pair. Steve fits in with the Aesir. Loki wonders if he could be happy among them. He wouldn't have to watch them fade as he will his friends on Earth.

The guests dance and drink and eat and flirt until the early hours of morning arrive and the birds begin to sing again.

“There are tents enough for any who wish to stay. There will be breakfast and more drinking in the morning,” Byleistr announces. “In you need to depart, Heimdall will send you home whenever you like.”

Everyone stays. They know they're never going to see anything like this again.

The newlyweds see their guests off to bed and sway toward their own tent. They brought the one they used on all their hunts and during their days in the woods before Loki's banishment.

The ribbons that bound their wrists have been joined to make a small pillowcase, and it has been stuffed with goosedown. Frigga gives it to them and kisses them goodnight.

Freyja gives them each a box. Thor's is long and flat and Loki's is small and square. She winks at them and glides off to bed.

They hop around dragging off their boots and then stumble under the tent flap and into their nest of furs and linen. Fumbling with their clothes yields no progress, so Loki huffs and removes them with seidr. They flop down onto their bed and stare at each other.

“I'm your husband,” Thor says, grinning, and Loki surges forward and kisses him, clutching him and hiding his face in Thor's neck, breath coming in wet ragged gasps.

Thor just shushes him and rubs his back. He was expecting this. Things so rarely go entirely Loki's way. His joy has long been tempered with sorrow. But here, at last, is happiness inviolate.

When Loki has calmed, Thor kisses his cheek and leans back to look at him.

“Let's see what Freyja gave us,” Thor murmurs, and Loki scrambles away to fetch the boxes.

Thor sits up and unlocks the large one, then cracks the lid open. He reaches in and takes out four lengths of densely woven silk, long and narrow like ribbon. Loki holds his palm over them and wrinkles his nose a moment, then raises his eyebrows and gapes a little.

“What?” Thor asks.

“They're a bit like Mjolnir,” Loki answers. “If I were to bind you, you would not be able to untie them, and your limbs would remain where I left them.”

Thor's eyes go wide.

“The spell is broken by anger, fear, sorrow, or any combination of the three; there is no danger in them,” Loki adds.

Thor smiles at the cloth in his hands before setting it back in its box.

“Open yours.”

Loki lifts the lid and reaches in to find a jar. When he opens it the scents of rain, roses and stone fill the tent. Loki dips a fingertip into the dense cream within the tub and then rubs it against his thumb. It goes clear and slippery.

“Ooooo,” he purrs. “We will weep when we run out of this, brother.”

Thor chuckles and turns down the bed, patting the place beside him. Loki brings the jar with him and sets it above their pillows while Thor tucks them in. They press their bellies together and nose each other's cheeks, fingers wandering over familiar skin beneath the sheets. They smell like dinner and drinks, fresh air and clean sweat. Thor drapes a leg over Loki's thigh and rolls their hips together lazily. They kiss with practiced imprecision. They're tired. They've been holding their breaths for a thousand years. They can finally exhale and let their guard down, for the war is won.

Thor falls away onto his back and Loki clambers on top of him. Thor grabs the jar and swipes his fingertips through it, reaching down to slick them up, watching Loki's head fall at the first drag of warm fingers. And then he lines Loki up and nudges Loki's ass with his heels as though he's urging on a horse. They both laugh and Loki sags down into Thor with a groan. They lie there a moment while Thor adjusts. Thor plays with Loki's hair and Loki sucks on Thor's neck, tasting salt and musk. Thor reaches down to palm Loki's backside and Loki gives a faint thrust with his hips. Thor chuckles. Loki hums.

Thor presses Loki's pelvis tight to his own and rolls them over.

“Mmmm. Wise, brother,” Loki yawns. “This is the only way either of us is getting fucked tonight.”

Thor snorts and sits tall astride Loki's hips, lifting himself and then dropping, pulling a groan from Loki and putting smiles on their lips. Thor strokes himself while he bounces. Loki's nails draw mirrored lines on Thor's thighs, stuttering from his hip to his knee like bolts of lightning.

It isn't long before Loki's fingers go tight on Thor's thighs and he spills, gasping brother, you're mine, you're mine. Thor nods, murmuring aye, stroking himself faster until he spends into the hand he has cupped in front of his cock. Thor cleans them up with seidr and falls down beside his brother, dimming the little points of light that float above them with a curl of his fingers.

They sleep for a few hours. The light of dawn wakes Thor. Loki wakes to the sensation of Thor writing things like husband, and brother, andyou have a lovely rump on his back with a fingertip. Loki giggles and Thor pulls him close, rubbing Loki's belly and kissing the top of his spine.

Thor drifts through the lingering wisps of pleasant dreams. Loki wades through the quagmire of his mind.

We will last long, Loki thinks, but the worlds will last longer, though even they cannot last forever.

This is both a comfort and a nightmare to him. The bad will end and pass and be forgotten. But the same will happen to the good. That's what stings. The thought that after all these centuries and all their struggling, the realms will one day forget them. Forget this love. Forget how perfect Thor is. Loki finds that unforgivable and wants to escape the indifference of time. Wants to carve their story into the flesh of the Norns. Burn their names into the bark of Yggdrasil itself. Thor will outlive nearly everyone. Loki can't let him do it alone. Thor would be heartsick. Loki won't let that happen. I have to outlive him, for his own sake, Loki thinks, but his throat tightens and his eyes sting at the idea. The options are equally unbearable. We need to die at exactly the same time, he decides.

And that can be arranged.

“Do you wish to bind our hearts?” Loki asks.

“Have we not done so already?” Thor asks, after his sleepy mind replays the question and then considers it.

“Not exactly.”

Thor tugs Loki over to face him and slots their legs together.

“Our lives will be linked,” Loki says.

“They always have been,” Thor shrugs. “Nothing will change. 

“We will die at the same moment,” Loki whispers, staring at Thor to see what his face will give away at hearing those words.

“Then I'll have gotten my weakest wish,” Thor says. “I could not bear to mourn you.”

Not a second's hesitation. Not a waver in his gaze. I married a god, Loki reminds himself, suppressing the unexpected urge he feels to hoot and jump up and down.

“Nor I you,” Loki says. “Tell no one of this. The strength of the protection afforded by this spell is unimaginable, and there are few foes who would guess to look for it within us, as they think me unlovable.”  

“They're fools,” Thor murmurs, kissing the chilly tip of Loki's nose.

Loki consulted Odin, Frigga, Farbauti, and Freyja about this spell when he was investigating marriage rites. He wanted to be certain it was safe – that there were no discrepancies in their descriptions of the seidr - in case he ever worked up the nerve to ask Thor for this. Their explanations and recitations were identical. And the spell is simple. The strongest seidr often is.

Loki writes the words on the wall of the tent in glowing light, then stands and beckons Thor.

“Link your fingers behind my back like this,” Loki says, demonstrating and wrapping his arms around his brother, dove-tailing his digits.

Thor does as instructed.

“Ready?” Loki asks.

“Aye.”

“Say the words in time with me.”

Thor nods and they begin.

“I give my life freely to the man in my arms, that his heart may beat and his lungs draw breath for as long as do those in my own breast,” they whisper in unison.

“It is done,” Loki murmurs, and kisses Thor.

“It's such a plain spell,” Thor notes, surprised, but audibly pleased.

“Aye. But they're not words one is likely to utter by accident.”

Thor grunts his agreement and pulls Loki back down into bed, wrapping them back up in furs and sheets, winding Loki up in warm limbs. They trade soft kisses and contented sighs until they sink back into sleep.

It's noon when everyone wakes, apart from Odin and Farbauti, who are still up - and still drinking. Stark's eyes go a little wide when he thinks about what the gods must have been like in their youth.

Everyone staggers out into the crisp air and sits down to bludgeon their hangovers with eggs, sausage, fruit, pastries, and mimosas – Loki and Thor first had champagne at Stark's Jul party, and they've been obsessed with it ever since.

Loki taps Thor's foot beneath the table and whispers, “Due East,” and when Thor looks he sees a grinning and rumpled Steve Rogers leaving a tent arm in arm with a half-naked royal guard. Thor wants to stand up and applaud, but he doubts his comrade would appreciate that, so he makes a note to clap him on the back about it later.

For their honeymoon, Loki takes Thor on a tour of the realms so he'll be able to recognize every inch of them. He wants Thor to be familiar enough with them that he can identify them by a glimpse of their flora and fauna if he has a vision, or if he wishes to travel to them via the Bifrost without having to ask Heimdall for directions.

They go to Jotunheim and Loki teaches Thor to shift his skin. Thor gasps when he sees the realm through its own eyes. The sky is bright with stars. The snow glows white and makes a soft sprinkling sound when it falls. The air is warm and pleasant. The ice is colorful where it changes thickness.

Thor is down on his belly and flopping about in the snow like a seal. Loki rolls his eyes and then Thor kicks his feet out from under him and pins him down in the snow.

“Hello,” Thor smiles.

“I've left myself no place to hide from your oafish affections, have I? Before, I could shift Jotun if I wanted you to keep your hands off me.”

“But you never did,” Thor points out, smirking.

“That's generally how hindsight works,” Loki teases, and Thor kisses him.

They go everywhere, and see everything. The realms get an eyeful of them in return.

 

11 The Realm Eternal

 

The nobles of Asgard were once powerful warriors themselves. Chieftains. But they grew selfish and lazy. Accustomed to their influence and position on the battlefield, they were reluctant to relinquish it in the days of peace that followed. They wanted to keep giving orders, and so they did. They rented out their land to farmers as the population grew. They hired servants and ceased to work themselves. Paid painters and poets to immortalize their pasts. Grew dull and soft.

They asked Thor to send Loki away in early March. The melting snow is the only water the ground has drunk in all that time. The earth is cracked and dusty. The sun is relentless. There are no clouds. No rain. No breeze. The sea is still. The fields are brown. The wells are dry. 

And the Aesir realize, too late, that they sent their nature gods away.

Heimdall watches the realm and waits.

It starts in June. The ponds begin to dry up, and Heimdall takes the fish, putting them into the pools Odin made for them on Alfheim.

When the rivers dwindle in July, he takes the other birds and beasts. He empties fields of livestock. Barns of horses. Coops of chickens.

By August, cupboards are bare. After three days with nothing but fish from the sea for their supper, Heimdall takes the children.

Odin and Frigga greet them on Alfheim, sit them down to dinner, and tell them they're going to see the Ljosalfar. The children are delighted.

Heimdall is the only one the Aesir can turn to if they wish to use the Bifrost. They are desperate for help and their options are grim.

They cannot ask the Vanir for aid: they are loyal to Odin and, therefore, Thor.

Alfheim belongs to Freyr, and is ultimately Vanir, so that's equally hopeless.

Muspelheim is dry. They could ask the Fire Giants to help them overthrow the other realms, but they have nothing to offer them in return, and the other realms are inhospitable from a Fire Giant's standpoint.

Helheim is full of death.

Niflheim is frozen and too dangerous. Nidhogg would only fill his belly with their bones.

Midgard is under Thor’s protection, so they can't ask for help there. And Heimdall wouldn't allow them to journey to the realm to take what they need by force.

Svartalfheim is a rich and powerful realm, but the Aesir have nothing to offer to the Dokkalfar, and it is unwise to be in their debt.

Snorre sends envoys to demand aid from their only remaining option: Jotunheim.

Farbauti almost falls over laughing.

“Your refusal to accept us as your ally is what brought you so low in the first place,” Farbauti says. “You sent my sons away. And you are not sorry. You are merely starving. You Aesir are a stubborn people and have long learned best from your failures. I shall leave you to it.”

Asgard has lost all its friends and is fast making enemies of its own citizens.

Healers, because they are mages, are deemed suspect. When the soldiers come for them, Heimdall snatches them up. Halldis takes it in stride and sets her people to work mending scraped knees and stubbed toes on Alfheim.

Sif, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg and the palace guards come out to help their neighbors when the soldiers start robbing them, but they are vastly outnumbered. They vanish before they can be killed or captured. Heimdall sends them to Alfheim where they're greeted by Odin and Frigga. The queen hands them each two sashes and matches them up with pairs of children. They all go to a stream and follow Frigga's lead, wrapping the children's waists with the sashes and using them to hold their wriggling bodies up in the water as they learn to swim.

Thor and Loki visit Farbauti on Jotunheim. He teaches them to use the elements as eyes into their realm. He can't do the seidr alone it because he isn't of Asgard, but Thor and Loki are now of both realms, and can see Asgard from Farbauti's basin of water.

The ladies of Asgard meet with each other, as they ever have, and the men think nothing of it. The men were afraid to anger the nobles, though they did not agree with them. They feared for the safety of their wives and children if they objected to Snorre. With their children gone, they are terrified their wives will vanish and they'll lose everything. But the women aren't afraid for their own lives. They want a safe realm for their children.

Thor and Loki can hear their names on ladies' lips. Praying for the gods to return and to bring back their babies. The women have wet grindstones, and Loki can see them sharpening their knives and swords. He looks up at them from within the buckets of seawater at their feet. When he sees this, he knows the time has come. Loki's doubles appear before the women of Asgard and ward them against harm in battle. He tells them to give their enemy no quarter, and they grin.

The brothers call their armour and travel to Asgard for war.

And there is much of Odin in them. They are as he was when he was at their age: ruthless, fearless, furious. They move through the city like wolves and fire. Loki is briefly tempted to end the whole thing with seidr, but it would be too swift - merciful, almost. These men don't deserve it.

Loki uses the magic from their wedding night – from their binding ceremony – to his advantage. Most of the soldiers come after him, since he's the one they've always blamed. They stab and slash at him. But he doesn't fall. The soldiers grow fearful, shrinking back in disbelief. They hesitate and he pierces them with icicles, shooting out from his body in a starburst. Thor is horrified by Loki's wounds: they are deep and vicious, and Loki is laughing up blood, but he carries on, grinning and snarling and loving it. Brede grabs Loki's sword by the blade and rips the weapon from Loki's grasp, though it costs the man three fingers and the use of that hand.

“Your bravery makes you no less a fool,” Loki tells him, and plunges a dagger of ice through Brede's throat.

The women of Asgard send their husbands to hide in their cellars, and if the men protest, their wives scoff and say, “You've not fought them all summer, there's no use in starting now.” When soldiers seek shelter in their homes, the women usher them in and slit their throats.

Thor lets himself have what he wanted that day in the square when they asked him to send his brother away. He calls lightning and melts his enemies in their armour. The stink of burning flesh and hair fills his nose. He calls a breeze to clear it away.

Soldiers shout that Loki will rot in Hel while they'll go to Valhalla and Loki laughs almost hysterically.

“You think you'll go to Valhalla if you died raising your sword against the people you swore to protect? Against your king?” Loki sneers. “You'll go nowhere at all. You'll not have a proper burial, I can promise you that.”

Loki makes good on that promise when the battle is over. He preserves the fallen bodies in ice, deep in Asgard's dungeons, trapping their spirits within them. Loki doesn't think Thor will stand for it, but his brother merely grins, all sharp teeth and eyes glowing wild, and says, “Clever thing.”

  
  


12 Regency

 

It's early September.

Thor and Loki return to Asgard, but not as kings. Thor asks Sif to act as Regent. She's surprised, but she accepts.

Loki does not cast a spell of reversal: if he returns Asgard to its former state, the people will forget. The punishment will not stick. They ruined the realm they loved and will have to live with its shadow.

Loki burns away what is dead and Thor rains it into the ground. It rains every day, pausing  only long enough to prevent flooding. Loki collects seeds from Odin's crops on Alfheim and sews them in Asgard. He removes the frost from the parts of Asgard he protected before he left. He casts a hastening spell: all of spring and summer occur in September. You can watch the flowers rise from the earth, stand tall, and open, all within a day.

Heimdall returns the animals and children to the realm.

Asgard has changed. Greener. Wetter. Wilder. There's a wanderlust in Asgard's youth. Their time on Alfheim has given them a taste for other realms. They want allies and adventures. Strange stars over their heads at night.

The brothers realize that somehow, somewhere over the centuries, they forgot themselves. Thrones are seats, indifferent to who sits on them. Crowns care not whose skull they circle. These things feel like trinkets to them. And shackles. They will not be bound by one realm. Nor any realm. They are gods, and they will come and go as they please. They are not politicians, though they will happily act as ambassadors and advisers. They will tend to the bones of the earth itself. Answer prayers where they can. Dote on women and children. Their alliance in the recent battle has left Loki with a deep affection for his Asgardian sisters. Thor has always shared his mother's concern and fondness for those who are pregnant, and nothing changes there.

Women and children remember the mess men got them in. Men are not trusted in positions of power and won't be for over a generation. And the gods are not coy about whom they favor: when they appear, it is to aid women and children, or the animals and the earth.

Thor's friends on Midgard ask for his help.

There's a man named Doom, of all things, with an army of machines marching through the streets toward Stark tower. Loki comes too, wanting to keep Thor and Pepper safe. Half the army stays, surrounding the tower. The other half goes to an abandoned hospital, where the machines equipped for flight rocket up to the twelfth story, and Thor flies after them while the others slowly fight their way in. Steve stays on the ground to hold the things at bay while Clint and Natasha sprint up to the twelfth floor. When they get there, it looks empty. Dark. They grope around until they finally see light under a door at the end of a corridor. When they get through they radio Tony, telling him to get over here, because Doom has Thor. Tony, Banner, and Loki have been defending the tower. When Stark tells him Doom has Thor, Loki calls to Heimdall and tells him to empty Stark tower, starting with Pepper. She doesn't want to leave, but even Stark asks her to go.

Heimdall brings everyone to a meadow in Asgard and sends the warriors three to look after the thousands of stunned Midgardians, most of whom think they've just died.

“So... This is Asgard,” Pepper begins.

Thor has been gassed and bound. There's a mask on him, hooked up to a canister of who-knows-what kind of sedative, to keep him breathing it in. Most needles won't make it through his skin, so foods and gases are the best workaround if you want to poison him. He's strapped to a table. There are various scientists with small gas masks on, taking samples for analysis, adjusting the dose of the drug as it goes into Thor's lungs.

The trouble with seidr isn't that it's vague. At least not in Loki's case. He knows better. So his spells are precise. The shields he has placed on Thor's skin guard against the weapons of enemies. They do not guard against armour or medical implements. Unfortunately, scalpels and saws fall under that exemption.

Loki flies there with his cloak of feathers, beside Stark, and leads them through the dark rooms without faltering, pulled by the old potion that points him to Thor. When they arrive, he goes still, makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, and swallows audibly.

He can read the trap. The room would have been dark like the others in the building. Doom's machines would have led Thor inside. The doctors were likely calling for help, luring Thor into the lab. Once Thor was within, the scientists put on their masks and the room was sealed and filled with gas.

The place was made for viewing. A thick panel of glass allows Loki to see everything that occurs in the operating room, which is half a story lower than the ground he stands on. Students should be learning how to heal here, watching surgeons put people back together, not tear them apart.

Doom is looking on as a surgeon peers into a screen and manipulates huge robotic arms, wielding saws and scalpels with enough pressure that they can actually cut through Thor's skin. Tubes suck blood from the wounds. There are clamps everywhere, pinching veins and arteries shut.

They have Thor cracked open like a nut.

“Oh fuck me, it's a vivisection,” Tony gasps, noting that there's a wastebasket to his left and taking his mask off in case he needs to vomit.

Doom has had his eye on Thor ever since he fell to earth in New Mexico. Finding blurry cell phone footage and YouTube videos. Seeing him heal. Knowing he looks thirty but has been worshipped for centuries. He wants that power. That perfection.

The room has been equipped like the cell that S.H.I.E.L.D. built to hold Banner but ended up using for Loki. Strong enough to hold Thor. Tony worries they won't be able to reach him.

Loki raises his hand and everyone inside the operating room flies up to the ceiling as though the building has just plummeted. They're on their backs, limbs spread wide, pinned like butterflies. Loki walks through the glass and hops lightly down onto the floor. He sees laptops and picks them up, passing them through the glass to Tony, who uses them to shut down Doom's army. They're a lot like unmanned versions of the Iron Man suit. They're much simpler, of course, but their massive numbers make them a bigger threat than they deserve to be.

And Stark realizes that Loki could have left his cell on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ship any time he wanted. He wonders if everything that happened in New York was part of Loki's plan. If they were marching unwittingly to the beat of his drum all along. He's impressed. But he knows he shouldn't be, so he promises himself he won't mention it. It's probably best not to encourage Loki in endeavors of that sort.

Tony walks closer to the window and looks at the men and women splayed on the ceiling. They can't move their limbs, but they can move their eyes. They're definitely alive and conscious. When he looks back down he see that Loki has taken the mask off of Thor and unbound his limbs. Loki's face is pale even for his complexion. Shining with the sweat of fear. He's speaking.

Jarvis and Natasha can read lips.

“What's he saying?” Clint asks.

“He's talking to Thor,” is all Natasha says.

Jarvis is calmly repeating all of it to Tony, who would rather he didn't, but can't bring himself to speak: I'm sorry I left you to fight alone, love. Won't happen again. We'll get you set to rights and I'll have you to Halldis in half a minute, I promise. You're doing so well, darling. The pain will pass. Just hold on.

Loki puts his hands right into Thor's open chest. Tony swears. Gold light emanates from the cavity, illuminating Loki's sad face. He's still speaking. I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. We're nearly there.

Rogers comes in, winded and smelling like smoke, but otherwise fine. His eyes go wide but he voices no objection, just stands, arms at his sides, eyes on Thor's face. Tony suspects the whole scene must hit the Captain close to home, because Steve isn't normally one to let people come to harm.

Tony briefly worries that Loki will slip and fall in the blood on the floor at his feet, and then realizes Loki likely has enough experience walking through blood to navigate it safely. He tells himself to find that reassuring under the circumstances.

The four friends notice the movement at the same time, out of the corners of their eyes: all the people on the ceiling are bleeding. It's pouring down onto the instruments and equipment below. The smaller the wound in Thor's chest becomes, the farther the red stains on fronts of the doctors' shirts spread. Loki moves on to the incisions in Thor's limbs, and more blood falls from the ceiling as wounds appear in the arms and legs of Doom and his accomplices.

“Should we stop him?” Clint asks.

Tony purses his lips.

“Are you feeling suicidal?”

“Good point,” Clint admits.

“We can't get in there anyway. And I'm pretty sure these guys are getting exactly what they deserve,” Stark says. “Not gonna lose any sleep over them. Seeing Loki reach into Thor's chest might haunt me for the rest of my life, though.”

Clint and Nat nod, but keep staring. Steve is up against the window, a hand on the glass.

“He's breathing,” Steve murmurs, and they all squint to see the rise and fall of Thor's breast.

Loki grimaces and reaches to mend the wound in Thor's right testicle where Doom took a sample of his semen. He heals the puncture to the vessel and the incision in the skin and lifts his head to watch as the corresponding wounds appear between the legs of all the bodies overhead. They're all dead – they didn't last long after their chests split open – but the mutilation still holds a measure of satisfaction for Loki. It's been ages since he had cause to desecrate a corpse and he's hardly going to let the opportunity pass: Doom's deeds will not go unpunished. And the punishment will not go unnoticed. Loki's promise to destroy those who try to harm Thor is writ large, and in blood.

Thor is covered in bright red scars. His jaw is slack and he's drenched in sweat. Loki takes off his cape and drapes it over his brother. He calls all of the tissues and fluids stolen from Thor to his fingertips, where they vanish. Calls Mjolnir from where she sits, marking the place Thor fell, and ties her to his hip. Calls Thor's own armour to the palm of his hand, reducing it to a speck and stuffing it unceremoniously into a pocket. Then he slides his right arm under Thor's shoulders and his left under Thor's knees and lifts him easily.

The brothers vanish in a blur of green and the bodies on the ceiling rain down onto the floor.

When they get back, Stark tower is in one piece. Banner, Jarvis, and Tony's own security precautions are largely to thank.

Pepper is there again, striding toward Tony and snatching him into a hug as soon as he's in reach.

“Where are they?” she asks.

“I'm guessing Asgard.”

“What happened?”

“I think it's best if only one of us has to know the answer to that. Ever. I'm serious.”

“Are they okay?”

“Honey, I don't know.”

 

13 Sleep

 

Loki takes Thor straight to Halldis.

“You've done well,” she says. “There is little more I can offer. We can give him some elixirs and some water, but really he just needs to sleep.”

They return to their cave and Thor does sleep. Loki can see him having ugly dreams and he soothes him and sings to him. Surrounds him with pleasant scents: a basket of wet leaves and earth, a blanket that Sleipnir has worn, apples, herbs. He presses long kisses to Thor's pale cheeks and whispers the softest of his secrets into the warm shell of his ear.

Loki takes up Mjolnir and brings the rain each night, for he loves to be able to see the lightning explode against the blackened sky, and that way the days can most often be sunny. Odin guides him, for the hammer feels strange and willful in his hand. He takes her for short trips, tossing her lightly a few feet in the air and dangling behind her. He throws her higher and farther each time and slowly finds his balance. His little flights are the high point of his day.

He tends to the plants, feeding them as much as they'll eat before the ground gets too cold and the sun is too low. On chilly days he wears his Jotun skin. Children spy on him, curious. He winks hello and blows little puffs of snow off of his palm that chase them and swirl around their bodies like cocoons. They throw their hands up and spin and giggle in the flurries, snowflakes tickling their cheeks and catching on their lashes.

Loki is in bed reading beside his brother when he finally wakes.

Thor groans and stretches, yawning and running his hands over his face, finding his cheeks bare. He sags back into the bed with a grunt. Loki sends his book back to the shelf with a flourish of his fingers.

“What happened on Midgard?” Thor croaks, and Loki sighs.

“It was a trap.”

“Did I walk right into it?”

“Aye.”

“Damn it,” Thor laughs. “What did they want with me?”

“To unmake you, that they might learn how you're made.”

Thor frowns.

“Were they successful?”

“Nearly. They had you split from neck to pubis and spread open like a book... flayed your limbs... stole your seed,” Loki says, the volume of his voice fading as he goes on. “I saw your heart. It's beautiful. You're even lovely on the inside. Not that I'm surprised.”

“Why am I not dead?”

“Because I am not dead.”

“The binding stretches that far?” Thor asks.

“Farther,” Loki says.

“What did you do with them?” Thor asks.

“I merely followed their example,” Loki says.

Thor nods.

“How do you feel?” Loki asks.

“Just a bit stiff. Who healed me?”

“I did.”

Thor makes a pleased sound and smooths the sheets idly.

"How long have I been sleeping?”

“A month.”

Thor's eyebrows jump.

“What have you been up to?” Thor asks.

Loki shrugs.

“Mending the realm.”

Thor crawls out of bed to stretch and drink glass after glass of cold water while Loki fetches him a generous breakfast, though it consists largely of supper foods, since it's evening.

Afterward they soak in the bath, letting the hot water relax the tight tissue along Thor's sternum and down the center of his belly. Loki just stares at his brother and washes himself distractedly.

Loki looks a bit thin for Thor's liking. And too tired. But he's touched just slightly with sun from tending the fields and trees. Thor is glad to see color in his brother's cheeks.

A month, Thor thinks. He saw me butchered, put me back together, and was left alone to wait.

Water rushes up toward Loki as Thor lunges at him, snatching him up in his arms and bounding up the stairs, water streaming from their limbs and hair. Loki siphons the water away with seidr and it floats behind them and back into the bath as Thor walks them to the bed.

He lays Loki down and Loki grabs him, wrapping his arms around Thor's ribs, splaying his fingers over his back and tangling their legs together. Loki's face is buried in Thor's neck and Thor can hear the breath panting from his lungs, can feel it spreading Loki's ribs beneath his own. Thor leans back and pulls away the wet locks of hair that cling to his brother's face, looking at the faint freckles that dot his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Loki's eyes are open wide, grey-green and rich black, reflecting Thor's face, devouring him.

Thor rubs the tips of their noses together and Loki runs his hands up and down Thor's flanks. He presses the seam of his lips to each of Loki's eyebrows, loving the tickle of the tiny bristly hairs. When he looks again Loki's mouth is open, bottom lip pouting low, revealing long teeth. Loki's gaze darts back and forth between Thor's eyes and lips, unable to settle on a favorite.

Thor leans in and nips Loki's lips with his own, softly tugging them up, tasting the wine they had with dinner. They kiss hungrily, feeling the drag of teeth over the translucent skin of the inner lip, making detours to mouth a jaw or nip an earlobe. Loki tilts his head to the side, asking for more, and Thor opens his mouth wide against Loki's, running his tongue along the inner arch of the upper teeth before feeling Loki's lips pull tight around around it, sucking it into his mouth, stroking it with his own. Thor's lips quest in past Loki's and seek out his tongue. When Thor sucks on it Loki whines and bucks.

Thor pulls back and kisses the tip of Loki's nose and Loki lifts his head, mouth seeking Thor's once again, dragging his lips into more kisses and coaxing them apart to let him lick inside. His hands rush down to Thor's hips and urge them up while he scrambles to spread his legs, shifting and knocking their knees together until they're sorted and he slides his thighs up around Thor's own, loving every second of the drag of warm skin. Thor is sucking on Loki's neck now and Loki is gasping and reaching between their bodies, cupping Thor's balls gently and then running the pads of his fingers along the base of Thor's cock, finally circling it with his thumb, pulling the foreskin back and guiding the head down.

He cries out when the tip of Thor's cock grazes the folds of his quim. The bed is soaked beneath him already.

“Thor, please.”

Thor nods and his lips brush Loki's as he lowers his hips, feeling warmth and wetness surround him. Loki's limbs wind around him and press him down tighter - even his neck is stretched and curved against Thor's, grasping. Thor kisses Loki's shoulder and hears his brother's heart beating, fast and frantic like a frightened bird.

“Oh, magpie,” Thor breathes, sliding one arm under Loki's neck and the other beneath his shoulders, crushing their breasts together.

Loki curls his pelvis up and gives a squeeze with his legs and Thor finally flexes his hips, gliding gently back and forth while he mouths the side of Loki's face.

Loki's head is straining back, brows pulling up in the center and down at the edges, eyes closed, mouth open. Thor stares, watching the features of his brother's face draw closer together as Loki's cunt grows tighter around him, and then Loki is arching and sobbing "Thor" over and over and their bellies are wet with seed. Thor wedges his face behind Loki's ear and presses deep into his quim until he spills, humming against Loki's neck.

Early the next morning Loki climbs over Thor to use the lavatory and drink some water. He throws more pine needles into the hearth and when he casts the spell to start the fire there's a huge flare of flame and the needles go up in smoke. He raises his eyebrows. Perhaps Thor fucked the sense right out of me, he muses, then decides he doesn't care and climbs back into bed to snuggle his warm sleepy brother.

Thor wakes an hour later and dresses, planning to visit their parents, wanting to tell them he's well. He leans over to kiss Loki goodbye and Loki flaps his lips at Thor sleepily until Thor grants him more kisses. Thor squeezes Loki's hip fondly and departs, promising to bring lunch back for them.

With typical reluctance, Loki rises mid-morning and sits at the mouth of the cave, swinging his legs over the side. He watches the sun slide down the peak in front of him and lets the chilly autumn air rouse him. His belly growls, so he calls a pear to his palm for breakfast. It arrives in his hand with such force that it splatters, and a mess of wet mush dribbles through his fingers and onto his lap. He hmphs and washes the ruined fruit from his skin. Curious, he casts the spell to create a double of himself and ends up with three of them. He frowns and dispels them. He shifts into his Jotun skin, intending to call a dagger of ice to his hand, wondering whether he's able to do anything right today, but instead he gasps and then goes still. Adrenaline floods his body.

No, Loki thinks. No. Oh, no no no no no.

I didn't do this yesterday.

He'd been so happy. Thor's eyes were clear and open, his voice low and lovely. Knowing without a doubt that his brother was well had left Loki overwhelmed. And it had been so long. It never occurred to him. He had completely forgotten to shift his skin and put ice on his tongue. He can't believe it. He had always thought it was something only an idiot could muddle.

He does his test now.

The ice on his tongue melts.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

But no, Loki tells himself. Surely not so easily. This is the first time I've slipped up. Some couples try for months - even years - to conceive.

Thor's a fertility god, some sadistic corner of his brain reminds him.

Damn.

He shifts Aesir again, tugs on his clothes, and hopes that he can at least manage to call to the Bifrost properly. That works: its magic is self contained now. Loki only needs to think of it. It's like walking, and he hasn't forgotten how to do that. Not yet, anyway, he thinks, miserably, and goes straight to Frigga.

“Come,” she calls, when he knocks on her door and whispers Mama.

He walks in quietly and finds her sitting on a sofa, sketching. She pats the spot next to her and he sits. She sets her drawings aside, puts one arm around his shoulders and lowers the other to put a hand on his stomach.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” she smiles, rubbing his belly.

He tips over and sobs into her neck while she giggles and pats his knee.

“We're not ready,” he moans. “We're both fools. Mother, what have we done?”

She tries to stop laughing but it takes a few minutes.

When she settles, she dries her cheeks with her scarf, then dries Loki's cheeks and takes his hand.

“No one is ever ready, darling, even when they think they are. This is normal.”

“Mother, it's awful,” he whimpers. “We can't even keep ourselves out of trouble for more than a month.”

“You'll smarten up.”

“What about Thor?”

She snorts.

“First you'll have to tell him. Then he can work on letting some sense sink through that thick skull.”

Loki lets his head drop back on her shoulder and sighs.

“My seidr is a mess.”

“It's stronger. You need to adjust your casting accordingly.”

“How much stronger?” he asks.

She hums and shrugs a shoulder, pretending not to know. He narrows his eyes, kisses her, and departs. As soon as he's gone, Frigga runs back to her library, drags Odin out of his chair, and takes him to Hlidskjalf via the Bifrost. They squeeze onto the throne together.

“What's gotten into you?” he says.

“I'm not missing this for all the realms,” she says, and they settle in to spy on their sons.

Loki meets Thor in the healing chamber where he's compounding elixirs with Halldis.

“You're awake,” Thor says. “I thought you'd still be sleeping. Are you ready for lun-”

Loki grabs Thor's wrist and pulls him through the Bifrost. They're in Sleipnir's stall now, with the dust motes that spin through the air, bearing the bright scent of horses. Sleipnir looks at them, grunts, and goes back to his hay.

“Did you want to spar?” Thor asks. “Are we jousting, or racing?”

“I can't do either at the moment,” Loki sighs, and sinks down onto a bale of straw.

“Are you ill?” Thor asks, and Loki huffs a laugh.

Thor kneels in front of him.

“What's wrong?”

Loki stares at him.

“You forgot, too,” Loki murmurs, and it's half question.

“Forgot what?” Thor says, brow furrowed. “Winternights?”

“No, not that.”

“I don't understand. Why can't you race or joust?”

Loki takes a deep breath.

“Last night,” Loki whispers, but the rest sticks in his throat.

“Oh Norns, did I hurt you? You can't ride... I'm so sorry... Did you wish to see Halldis alone?” Thor gasps, words tumbling from his lips and sweat starting on his brow.

“No! No. Not a bit. Hush,” Loki soothes, taking Thor's hands. “Last night, you woke up, finally, and I was so elated I forgot to put ice on my tongue...” Loki looks at Thor, waiting to watch the pieces fall into place behind his brother's eyes.

Thor sucks in a breath and reaches out to lay a hand on Loki's stomach, eyes wide.

Loki nods.

“Oh,” Thor breathes. “Oh, sweetheart."

And then Thor's drowning Loki in kisses and rucking up his shirt, bending to nuzzle and mouth his belly.

Thor stays there with his head pillowed in Loki's lap, petting his abdomen and listening to Sleipnir eating.

“Do you feel different?” Thor asks.

“Aye,” Loki laughs and Thor straightens to look at him, curious and surprised. “My seidr is a disaster. I  couldn't cast a proper fire. Couldn't summon a simple object... Mother says it's stronger.”

Thor raises his eyebrows. Loki uses magic the way Midgardians use electricity. It makes his world run smoothly. His brother is going to be irritable until he sorts this out.

Loki's stomach growls.

“Have you eaten at all?”

“No. I panicked before I had a chance.”

Thor huffs a laugh, rises, and pulls Loki to his feet.

“You should go to see Halldis.”

“I know,” Loki gripes. “But I can't face her smirk on an empty stomach. I haven't the fortitude.”

When Loki finally finishes his fifth dish of custard, Thor takes him straight to Halldis.

She takes one look at Loki's scowl and Thor's grin and doubles over laughing.

“I can hardly believe you held out this long,” she says. “Congratulations, dears.”

Loki sighs and Thor thanks her. She pours little drams of liquor for herself and Thor to celebrate.

“Sorry, love,” she says to Loki. “None of this while you're with child.”

Loki huffs.

She tells them what to expect and sends a page to request the services of healers from Jotunheim. They arrive almost instantly and Farbauti comes with them. They wait in the hall where the ceilings are high enough for them and then examine Loki in his bedroom in the palace.

Loki is deemed fit and Farbauti walks them through the cool autumn air and explains the quirks of Jotun pregnancies to them.

“You're going to feel an irresistible call to hide yourself away. Don't bother fighting it. The instinct arises from the vulnerability of your body. Your seidr will be erratic.”

“It is already,” Loki says, and Farbauti squeezes his shoulder.

“And, for the last two months, you won't be able to walk.”

Loki already warned Thor about this, but it saddens him nonetheless, knowing his brother will be so helpless.

“Your appetites will be extraordinary, and you shouldn't fight those, either. Eat what you like, sleep when you are weary, and, in the meantime, have all the sex you can manage.”

They all laugh.

“I'm quite serious, though,” Farbauti continues. “The bond between you will strengthen, and it will sooth you both. You'll grow anxious, too, Thor. You'll fear for his safety, even when you know there is no need. When he has guests it will worry you – even if they're trusted allies.”

Thor looks surprised and Farbauti cocks his head, considering him a moment.

“It will be more pronounced if your companions are Aesir or Jotun. Your Midgardian friends will only worry you slightly, for they are small and fragile, and there is no seidr in their skin to set you off. But if you were to see Byleistr toward the end of this pregnancy, you two would likely come to blows. Let's avoid that, shall we?”

Thor nods.

Thor spoils his brother rotten.

He gives Loki massages that go on for hours. Stroking the long muscles of the legs. Stretching the shoulders. Kneading the neck. Loki wants to tease Thor. His body is not yet under any strain. There is no outward sign of his condition. But Thor's attentions are too lovely to refuse, so he lies still, warm and naked, while Thor's hands move over him in soothing motions. Loki brings the camera Pepper gave them into bed with him one day. He is watching as Thor bites his lip in concentration while he kneads Loki's calves. He takes photographs of his brother's face. I can't always be pregnant, Loki thinks. Best find a way to make this last.

Loki develops a craving for eggs and begins to eat them constantly. Thor approves of this. It's better than the mountain of sweets he devoured during the first week of his pregnancy. Pastries, cakes, puddings, tarts, truffles, chocolates, and pies had vanished into his brother's belly, and he hadn't put on a pound. Thor had watched, wide-eyed, and wisely said nothing.

They were already having what some might consider an excessive amount of sex. Thor's a fertility god and Loki's in love with him. But it's even worse now and, therefore, even better. Loki's quim is pinker and plumper as his body begins its preparations for the baby and its birth. The skin is so sensitive Loki avoids clothes whenever possible, often dressing only to go to the kitchens. The swollen flesh feels decadent to Thor's tongue and he spends his nights and mornings (and mid-mornings, noons, and mid-afternoons) kissing and lapping at it while Loki writhes and shouts above him.

Loki is insatiable and it only grows stronger as it goes on, as though feeding the appetite simply serves to increase it somehow. Thor isn't complaining. Sometimes they just lie there, still and burning, Loki's cock deep in Thor's ass, nested like spoons, while Loki purrs gorgeous anddarling and mine into Thor's sweat-damp hair, fingers wrapped around Thor's cock possessively.

The hormones give Loki erections whenever it pleases them, which is nearly all the time. Loki stops caring who sees them rather quickly. He enjoys the way people blush and squirm at the sight of him. He does cast a glamour to conceal his state from children and his parents, however: there are some lines even Loki has no desire to cross. 

Thor begins to have nightmares.

That Loki miscarries. That their baby is stillborn. That Loki dies in childbirth. That he loses both of them during labor. He wakes drenched in sweat, and in the dark he fears the wetness on the sheets is the ocean of blood he's just seen in his dream. He starts sobbing and clutching at Loki and Loki wakes and calls lights and finds Thor soaked and shaking.

“Norns, love, what's gotten into you?” Loki whispers.

“I've been having awful dreams,” Thor answers, voice choked with sleep and tears.

“About what?” Loki asks, but Thor just shakes his head and holds Loki tighter.

In the morning Frigga comes and gives them quilts. One is covered in waves with sea birds soaring over them, the other is awash in animals and plants. Both have Asgard's stars on one side.

“Two?” Loki asks.

“Aye,” she smiles.

“Twins?” he gasps.

She shrugs at him innocently and Loki scowls at her.

Thor shouts with joy and peppers Loki's face with kisses. He has no more nightmares.

**********

Tony spends much the week following Doom's attack pacing back and forth between his living room and the room he keeps for Thor and Loki. He's waiting for Loki to appear, scare the shit out of him, and tell him everything is okay. Inasmuch as anything is ever really okay when Norse gods materialize in your home.

Pepper watches the balcony on Thanksgiving, but no one comes.

A few days before Christmas, she is once again setting up for the holiday party with Steve. This time Tony and Bruce are assisting.

Her hands are covered in sap and scrapes from winding the lights through the branches of the tree they're decorating. She stares at the tiny cuts on her skin and sighs.

“Heimdall?” she calls.

And then she's gone

“The fuck?!” Tony gasps.

  
  


14 Rest

 

“Pepper Potts,” Heimdall greets, and Pepper bows.

Astrid has become Heimdall's personal page. He sends her to fetch Thor.

Thor arrives, arms spread wide.

“Pepper!” he sings, and picks her up in a hug.

“Thor, I thought you were dead. Tony wouldn't even tell me what happened to you.”

“That's for the best,” Thor admits. “I'm sorry. There has been much to do. I was useless for all of October. Loki was still busy repairing the realm after the drought and the war, on top of tending to me. I was mended by early November, but...” Thor trails off and runs a hand through his hair. “It is not my place to say. We've been distracted – I apologize. And now I can't leave Loki's side for long and he will not leave Asgard.”

“What's going on?”

“Come with me,” Thor says. “Stay behind me.”

Thor casts wards on her and they travel to the kitchens where he picks up a plank that has a feast laid out on it.

Then they're in the cave. Pepper can see Loki in bed, even though the sun is only just beginning to set. Thor motions for Pepper to get behind him and they make their way in to the table, where Thor silently sets down the plank. Loki stirs at the scent. Thor walks back toward the bed, keeping himself between Pepper and Loki.

“Mmmm, that smells marvelous,” Loki purrs, voice soft and light. “Cast a charm to keep it warm and get back in here a moment.”

He rolls over onto his back and looks at Thor. Loki's hair is mussed and his eyes are puffy with sleep. His erection is tenting the blankets and he's flushed.

He's going to throttle me, Thor thinks.

“What's wrong?” Loki asks.

“I might have done something foolish,” Thor says, and Loki smiles.

“Just might?” Loki teases, and Thor takes a deep breath.

“Pepper is here to see you.”

Loki's eyes widen and he grins.

“Is that all right?” Thor asks.

“Aye. I've missed her like breathing. Where did you leave her?”

“That's where I've been foolish.”

“Don't tell me you left her with Volstagg and they're both dead drunk.”

“No, sweetheart, she's here.”

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure she got a look at you, at least, in case you weren't up to company. So I sneaked her in."

Loki laughs.

“Poor girl's seen more than she bargained for, I expect. Did you ward her?”

“Aye,” Thor sighs, looking guilty. “I didn't want a sound or a shadow to wake you.”

“Your seidr is seamless these days,” Loki smiles, turning onto his side to face them... and to hide his erection. “Now remove the wards and let me see my lady.”

Thor does and Loki can see Pepper peeking at him from behind Thor's shoulder.

“Sure you're all right?” Thor asks.

“Yes, damn you, get out of the way,” Loki gripes, but he's still smiling.

Thor steps aside and leaves to set the table. Loki pats the edge of the bed and Pepper toes off her shoes and sits, leaning on her left arm with one leg folded up under her. Loki takes her right hand and kisses it.

“You okay?” she says, pushing his hair off of his face, and he laughs softly.

“Aye lady.”

“What's going on?”

He sighs.

“Your myths weren't entirely wrong about me.”

“Oh yeah? Did you start an apocalypse?” she teases.

“No, nothing like that,” he laughs. “We were celebrating Thor's recovery and... we got a bit carried away...” Loki clears his throat. “I'm pregnant.”

Pepper doesn't miss a beat.

“Congratulations,” she coos, and a knot in his chest comes undone. “When are you due?”

“Probably in  August, but it's rather difficult to gauge. There's no reliable precedent for Aesir-Jotnar births.”

She nods.

“Norns, it's good to see you,” he murmurs, squeezing her hand.

“You too.”

“Sorry about Thor. He likes to let on that I'm dangerous, but the truth is he's just wildly overprotective. I had to shout at him for ten minutes before he let an unfamiliar healer lay hands on me,” Loki sighs, and when Pepper looks at Thor, the blond god is blushing. “I apologize for how much I'm about to eat. And for the erection,” Loki adds, wincing. “And the blushing. I'm in a constant state of adolescence, I'm afraid.”

“Well, we missed out on being awkward teenagers together, so we can make up for lost time.”

He smiles.

They move to the dining table.

“So, do you know when you conceived?” Pepper asks. “It'd be good to document your pregnancy and start a medical history. To have something that you can reference later. I'm sure there will be other couples in your position at some point. They'd probably appreciate it.”

“To the hour of the day,” Loki laughs. “And, yes, Halldis, Mother, and I are keeping a detailed record of this. And Thor keeps noticing all sorts of things that go completely over my head. They're usually embarrassing.”

“I demand gory details,” she says, and Loki smirks.

“Be careful what you wish for, lady.”

Odin and Frigga keep out of Asgard's eyes apart from working as healers and hosts. Odin is still raising foundlings and tinkering with farming, though the latter is tapering off with the cold.

Thor travels to Jotunheim with Frigga from time to time as the first of the babies conceived since the return of the Casket are born. Most of them must be cut from the womb. Halldis and Frigga are surprised and relieved when Thor takes to it without any fear or hesitance. Thor is grateful that the Jotnar trust him with knives at their pregnant bellies. He shifts his skin to tend to them, which they find encouraging. Frigga can touch the Frost Giants as Odin can, and it occurs to Thor that his parents must have performed the same ceremony he and Loki used, trading blood.

Thor brings all the snow the realm can stand. It's either storms or sunshine.

They get in bed early, but go to sleep late.

“How long can you stay hard?” Loki asks.

“How long can you stay wet?” Thor replies.

“I'm always wet.”

Thor keeps the snow falling steadily outside, cold and bright, smelling of winter and reminding them of Jotunheim. They barely move. Their pulses are slow, breaths deep and infrequent. Every now and again Loki will flex the muscles in the wall of his quim and Thor's eyelids will flutter. Or Thor will press on the base of Loki's spine, driving him down farther onto his cock and Loki will hum. They want to enjoy this before Loki's belly grows too big between them.

Farbauti was right. Loki finds himself growing uneasy in crowds. He begins to avoid the palace and the markets, sending Thor to fetch his meals and run his errands for him. But the forests are a comfort. They shift their skin and take long walks through snowy woods and meadows while Loki holds Thor's arm.

Spring comes and they swim. Loki loves to feel the weight lift from his bones as the water bears him up. He likes to float face down in the lake. It's as close as he can come to lying on his belly these days, and he misses it. The sun warms his back and the fish gather beneath him, huddling in his shadow to hide from the eyes of hungry birds. Thor huffs, finding the sight disturbing, but Loki tips his head to the side often to sip air from over his shoulder, so Thor holds his tongue.

The sun finds Loki's skin and tints it with honey tones. His cheeks are rosy and ripe, the fullest they've ever been. Thor wants them fuller, but Loki eyes him suspiciously when he drowns the toast in butter, so Thor resists the urge to fatten up his brother.

They scoot their chairs together after dinner and Loki kisses the wine from Thor's lips, savoring the only taste of it he's allowed anymore. They clasp each other's necks and make love to each other with their mouths and tongues until Loki's nails dig into Thor's skin and they finally climb to their feet and head for bed.

Loki's belly is now full and heavy. It's a bit of an obstacle, but he's pleased with every solution he and Thor have come up with. Thor takes Loki's robe and strips off his own clothes. When he looks up, Loki is on his hands and knees on the mattress, swaying his tiny ass back and forth impatiently. Thor nips it and lies down on his back with his head between his brother's legs and Loki shifts to sit on Thor's chin. Thor cups Loki's behind and licks up into the warmth of his quim until Loki lifts his hips, sated. Thor loves this. Sometimes Loki is eager and Thor only manages a few swipes of his tongue before Loki is up and heckling him. But more often, Loki will stay like this, sighing and grinding himself down on Thor's face for half an hour.

Either way, afterward Thor kneels behind Loki and slides carefully into him. The angle lets the head of Thor's cock brush the walls of Loki's cunt in a way that makes him moan and pant. Thor loves the sounds, grinning at the back of Loki's head, reaching to stroke his spine and hold his waist, tugging him in close by the hips.

After Thor spills, he helps Loki down onto his side and curls up before his swollen belly to suck Loki's cock until he shouts. Then he kisses his way down to lick the seed from Loki's body and tickle his twitching ass with his tongue.

 

15 Clarity

 

In late spring Thor's friends on Midgard call him for help again. Thor summons Stark to the Bifrost to explain it.

“Nothing dangerous this time, just some urgent heavy lifting. Earthquake.”

“Will it take long?”

Tony shrugs.

“Come with me,” Thor sighs. “Loki might be more likely to say yes if he has to look at you when he decides.”

He takes Tony to the cave and unconsciously puts himself between his brother and Stark.

Loki is in bed reading, a book propped up on his belly.

“Loki? I'm needed on Midgard.”

Loki scowls.

“I haven't forgiven Midgard for what happened the last time it needed you.”

“This is different.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Natural disaster. Earthquake,” Stark explains.

Loki sighs.

“Very well. But if you get Thor, I get Pepper. If she's free.”

Tony narrows his eyes.

“Oh, just bring Thor back in one piece and join us for dinner,” Loki says, waving them off.

Heimdall sends Pepper.

She finds Loki puttering around, changing sheets, huge with twins, though he's only halfway through. Thor warned her that Loki had forsaken pants ages ago. He wears a long tunic that is, nevertheless, short enough to give her a peek of the base of his tiny behind when he bends over to smooth the bed. His belly sticks out far enough to hide his erections... most of the time.

“Hey there,” she greets, and he turns, smiling.

“I thought I could smell your perfume. How are you?” he asks, beaming and leaning over his belly to hug her.

“Really well, thanks. How about you?"

“Enormous, as you see. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure.”

“I apologize for my attire,” he says, pulling on a robe. “Or lack thereof. I tried a full length gown for a day, but I kept tripping on it and sitting on it awkwardly and then Thor realized I'd most likely set myself on fire. So now I'm back to tunics.”

She laughs and they flop down on the couch with furs on their laps.

“So, Jack Gilbert,” she says.

“Failing and Flying,” he croons. “Norns, that's a lovely piece. And heartbreaking.”

“The best things always are.”

“'Anything worth doing is worth doing badly,'” they chime in unison, and he laughs, shaking his head.

They chat until Loki's stomach growls.

He rises and takes her arm, guiding them through the Bifrost to the kitchens, where he takes up a plank the size of a coffee table, piled with plates of food. Bergljot arranged it for him, and he's grateful he won't have to spend any longer than necessary in the bustle of the palace, for it makes him shake with nerves.

Loki holds up the platter as though it weighs nothing and it looks impossible until Pepper remembers he's a Norse god who survived a beating from Banner.

He arranges dinner on the table in the cave and pours drinks - wine for her, water for him. Everything looks and smells delicious, and Pepper is excited to try it all. They eat their supper in stages, stopping to chat while they wait for their appetites to return between courses.

“Does Stark dislike your coming to Asgard?” Loki asks, remembering Tony's scowl when he said he wanted her here.

She groans and rolls her eyes.

“It's not Asgard. He's afraid we're having an affair. Or going to have one,”

“What?” Loki gasps.

“I know, right?”

“How can he doubt you?”

“In theory, I can kind of understand the how. He doesn't really have any experience with real relationships. He doesn't have anyone else in his life on more than a professional level. For him, there's just me. Which is bad, I know, but in his case it's also progress. And he sees me with you, talking about things he doesn't really understand. And you're tall, and smart, and handsome... and a god. So he does the math and can't come up with a logical reason for me not to be in love with you. It's like, I'm everything to him, therefore, he should be everything to me. Still, he should know better.”

“Aye,” Loki says, frowning. “And my being married to Thor never enters into it?”

“Apparently not,” she says, laughing. “I think he feels emotions are too imprecise and unstable to factor into his jackass calculations, so he's missing the key components of the equation. He doesn't get it. If I went up to him and said, 'Jack Gilbert,' he'd say, 'Tony Stark.' We wouldn't end up raving about poetry for two hours. He's thrown off by how passionate our conversations are.”

Loki nods.

“And I think he's freaked out by how affectionate you are.”

“Thor said he'd had a chat with Stark about all this at our wedding. He thought it went well.”

“It did. And then you came to see me after your honeymoon...”

“Ah,” Loki answers, remembering.

He and Thor had fucked their way across every viable inch of the realms and afterward he had shown up at Stark tower, covered in love-bites, hair wild, wearing one of Thor's favorite outfits, which meant tight and black. And he'd been so happy to see her, and so happy in general, that he'd grabbed her and danced her around the room, dipping her low and humming at how far backwards she bent, then dipping himself backward with her body stretched over his breast. After that he'd purred, “Oh, you lovely lissome thing. I could eat you. You should run from a beastie like me,” and snapped his teeth at her ear and they'd giggled.

Then he'd scooped her up and spun her around, kissing her cheeks all the while, before carrying her to the couch, where her draped her over his lap and fondled her waist, rhapsodizing about all the things he'd seen. And then he had listened in turn, rapt, as she raved about the book she'd just read.

Stark had wandered in, received no response from either of them, and sulked back out of the room. Pepper hadn't even considered asking Loki to stop. It felt great - her cramps were gone and Loki's voice was soaring and plummeting as he told his tale. She'd been delighted.

“Do they discomfit you? My affections?” he asks.

“No, I love it. It's like getting a piece of childhood back, or like adulthood actually making sense for a change. We're really stupid about that stuff on Midgard.”

Loki nods.

“Anyway,” she says. “After that, he found the letters you've written to me and he convinced himself they're evidence of some secret romance.”

“Did he read them?

“Yep.”

“How could he read them and still come to that conclusion?”

“I know! I think he took a look at your penmanship, your vocabulary, and the quality of the paper and decided it was all in code.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Loki groans. “Did he go through your things to get them?”

“No. What he did is probably worse. One day he went through all the security footage of every visit you made to the tower. So he saw you leaving the letters and then zoomed in on the shots of me reading them,” she sighs, and Loki growls.

“I'm sorry, love. I had no idea I'd caused you such grief.”

“You haven't. This is not on you. And we're fine. He and I are fine. I'm just going to have to bludgeon the point into his stupid skull until it sticks.”

Loki snorts.

They eat too much and talk until she's hoarse. Thor has left a box of fresh pine needles for a fire and Loki lights some carefully. Then they plop down on the couch, where he reads to her until she falls asleep on his shoulder. When she wakes, he's watching her, a smile on his lips, eyes large and liquid.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “God, I can't believe I just did that. It should have been the other way around.”

He laughs.

“You've done no harm. I won't break.”

“They're still not back?” she asks, looking around.

“No,” Loki frowns, shaking his head.

He heaves himself up to his feet and stretches.

“I'm going to have a bath,” he says, biting his lip. “You're welcome to join me if you wish, or to take one on your own later. Or not. Or you may sleep. Or read. Whatever you like.”

“You don't mind company?”

“I've hardy ever bathed without company,” he admits, only just realizing it himself. “We all wash together in the sparring arena baths. Or in lakes and streams on long campaigns. Thor and I shared a bath all our lives.

“Oh, okay then,” she shrugs.

“Let me know if you'd like it warmer or cooler.”

She nods. He thanks the Norns his hormones aren't giving him an erection, grabs towels, hangs his robe on a hook, and tosses his tunic into a basket before climbing down into the pool to stand under the water, letting it beat the muscles in his neck. He's been tense, not knowing where Thor is, or when he's coming home. Worried it's another trap somehow.

She neatly folds her clothes and steps lightly down into the bath and he groans.

“What's it like to have your own body?” he sighs.

She laughs.

“You've spent more time not being pregnant than I've spent breathing,” she teases. “Is it weird?”

“Utterly bizarre. I've been commandeered,” he grumbles. “I never had a noteworthy appetite, and now I'm eating more than Volstagg. I'm aghast after every meal. And the weight of it. Not physically, though that's strange enough. But the responsibility. So much of my existence was so dangerous. Reckless. Even on a peaceful day. Riding. Sparring. My life was mine to wager. But I'm not my own anymore. I'm in their debt somehow. And I suspect I'll never be out of it.”

“Have you had any trouble?” she asks.

“No,” he says, sounding surprised. “And it's making me nervous. As though I'm overdue and there will be an onslaught of difficulties at any moment.”

His belly bobs in the middle of the bath, a pale island.

“You don't have to stay in here with me all the while,” he says. “This is the only time my spine is happy, so I tend to linger.”

“Sounds good to me,” she smiles, rolling onto her back and floating beside him.

They tip their heads to face each other, so they each have one ear in the air and one in the water. The conflicting soundscapes are disorienting.

“Apparently, I'm going to get breasts toward the end of it, and all while I'm nursing,” he says. “Any advice?”

“Avoid gravity,” she answers, and they snort. “I don't know about the nursing, but in general, they're a mixed bag. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they get bigger. Sometimes you'll wish they'd go away. Sometimes it feels great when you touch them. Sometimes they're just dead weight. Running with them is a bitch no matter what... Riding is probably just as bad.”

He laughs.

“What do you think Thor will make of them?” she asks.

“I'm afraid to find out. Especially as they're temporary.”

They giggle.

When Loki finds himself wanting to close his eyes he finally leaves the pool, drying himself slowly. Pepper follows. Once they're no longer dripping, Loki shuffles off to get ready for bed, setting the fire and putting oil on his skin. Pepper pours them water and they listen to each other's throats gulping as they drink it.

He grabs the furs from the couch and tosses them over the foot of the bed before clambering across the mattress and sinking down onto his side. He pats the spot in front of him and Pepper climbs in. The bed smells like its owners - like herbs and meadows and musk and marzipan, and she finds the combination strangely soothing. She wishes she could take it home somehow.

“Here, give me your hand,” he says, and presses her palm to his belly.

Her eyes go wide.

“What's that feel like on your end?”

“Like I swallowed a hummingbird.”

“How's Thor doing?” she murmurs.

“Quite well. Almost too well. It worries me a bit. Pregnancies are so fragile - anything can go wrong at any time - and mine is hardly typical. Wrought by two realms and twins on top of it...” Loki sighs. “He's already so attached. He talks and sings to them. Pesters me about names. I keep warning him not to count his chickens before they hatch. I don't want to see his heart broken by this.”

She hums and nods.

“Shove me out of your way if you need to pee,” she says, and he smiles and leans forward to kiss her cheek.

He runs a finger along her jaw and down the bridge of her nose. He adores all her features, but these two call to him, much as her eyes do, only he can't touch those.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

“G'night.”

“Oh, come on!” Tony yelps, when he and Thor arrive at the cave with breakfast the next morning.

Loki is propped up in bed, reading, with Pepper tucked under his right arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He has his knees bent up and she has hers wedged under his ass. She's petting his belly through the blankets. Loki has the book balanced on one finger and the pages are turning themselves.

“All right, love?” Loki asks, ignoring Stark.

“Aye. There was much to be done. Sorry we're so late,” Thor calls, setting breakfast out on the table. “Bergljot made those rolls you like.”

“Mmmm,” Loki hums.

Tony is still staring at Pepper and Loki.

“By what stretch of the imagination are you two not sleeping together?” Stark asks.

“No stretch,” Loki answers.

Pepper sighs. She can hear plates and flatware clinking on the table as Thor arranges their breakfast and finds it funny that the guy who regularly smashes his problems with a hammer and married his little brother is the most well adjusted man in the room.

“Explain your way out of this one, Silvertongue.”

“With pleasure,” Loki says.

Pepper pats Loki's chest and scrambles into the dining room to join Thor.

“She's not wearing any clothes,” Tony notes.

Loki climbs out of bed.

“Aaaand neither are you,” Stark sighs.

Loki puts his robe on because he can tell Stark will be distracted throughout their entire conversation if he remains naked. He crowds as close to the man as his belly will allow.

“Ready?” Loki asks.

“Bring it.”

“Thor, the tall blond god you see over there,” Loki says, tossing his head in his brother's direction, “has loved me all my life, and it has taken me very nearly that long to believe it. I know you haven't had such a wealth of time at your disposal, therefore I shall be lenient. Generous, even. I'll give you a warning, which I feel is more than fair for such a betrayal. I'll say this once, Stark, so listen well: she loves you. To doubt it is to insult her and that's a slight I'll not long abide, are we clear? When you think yourself unworthy you soon render it so. But your fear is unfounded and I'll not forgive your faithlessness a second time. Make no mistake, mortal, I love her as dearly as I would a sister-”

“In your case, that's not exactly reassuring,” Stark blurts, and Loki grabs the collar of his t-shirt.

“My life was bound to his before I drew breath,” Loki snarls. “Can you imagine it? If I told you she was your sibling would you have the strength to love her still? She could love anyone. Forgive anything. And, aye, she is so clever and kind and beautiful it seems incomprehensible that anybody could resist-”

“Exactly!” Tony yelps. “How are you not in love with her?”

“How are you not in love with Thor?” Loki counters.

Stark stops and his forehead lifts. Oh, he thinks. Well, shit.

Loki smiles and cocks his head.

“Do we understand each other?” Loki says.

Stark nods but Loki smacks him anyway.

“Ow, dammit,” Tony grumbles. “What the hell was that for?”

Loki gestures toward his belly and then throws his hands wide.

“I like cock, you fucking idiot!”

  
  


16 Inversion

 

Loki has taken the shape of the pears he's so fond of eating. The veins that show through the skin of his belly look like a drawing of Yggdrasil. Thor traces them and puts kisses where he thinks the leaves should be.

At the end of the seventh month, Loki wakes up wanting and Thor is hard because it's morning. Loki decides to make the most of it.

He is perched on top of Thor, sighing like the wind as he slides up and down on Thor's prick. Thor is running his hands over Loki's thighs, cock, and belly and trying to burn his brother's image into his mind - head thrown back, smiling, gorgeous, full.

And then Loki's rhythm falters and he tumbles down onto Thor's chest, cursing. He gets his arms in front of him in time to spare his belly, so the brunt of the injury has been dealt to his pride.

“Are you all right?” Thor gasps, winded by the force of Loki's forearms crashing into his ribs as they broke his fall.

“I'm fine,” Loki nods. “Shit. I think that was my pelvis spreading past the point of no return.”

Loki braces his hands on the bed and lifts himself up with his arms as much as he's able. Thor takes a hold of his hips to raise them, sliding their bodies apart and setting Loki beside him on the bed.

“I smell blood,” Thor whispers, and sees a streak of it at the base of his cock. Loki swipes a hand between his legs and his fingertips come away red.

And then Thor's breathing hard and saying no no no no no. He wraps Loki in the sheet, scoops him up, and takes him straight to Halldis.

She looks up when they appear in the room. They're still naked, drenched in sweat and wet with sex. Thor is pale and Loki is flushed.

“He's bleeding,” Thor says, voice thick.

Loki can feel a tremor running through his brother.

“Set him on his back over here,” Halldis says, calm as ever, rising and motioning to a cot, stuffing pillows under her patient to support him as Thor lays him down.

Halldis calls more light to the room. It has no source, so there are no shadows. Loki loves it.

“Don't speak a moment,” she says, and casts a spell to let her hear better.

She presses an ear to Loki's belly and they all hold their breaths.

She recalls the spell.

“Their heartbeats are strong and even,” she says, and Thor sobs.

“Spread your knees for me, dear,” she coaxes.

“I can't,” Loki sighs.

“Finally snapped, did you?” she asks, moving his legs for him.

“Aye.”

She uses seidr to hold his body open and he twitches.

“Mmmhmm. I see it. Just a little tear, right at the mouth,” she murmurs, healing it without warning and making Loki squeak and then giggle.

“Fell on him, didn't you?” she smirks.

“Yes,” Loki gripes.

“You can't go bouncing about like the whippet you were when you're carrying all this extra weight, you bloody tit,” she scolds, flicking Loki's forehead. “You'll have no choice now, though. You'll have to behave yourself – you won't be able to walk.”

Loki scowls.

Halldis walks over to soothe Thor, rubbing his back and leading him around to sit on the adjacent cot. She takes his hand and pats it. He lets out a shaky breath.

“He's all right, dearie. They're all fine. Don't fret. From here on, you'll have to work around his legs as well as his belly... and his idiocy,” she adds, and Loki hmphs. “He can lie on his side with a pillow between his knees and you can curl up behind him,” she suggests. “Or he can lie on his back and hang his hips off the bed while you hold his legs up for him. Or any other clever thing you can come up with. Your mouth and fingers will probably be easiest. Just don't let him goad or seduce you into being anything but gentle with him.”

Thor nods and thanks her.

Loki scoffs and glares at her.

“Be grateful I didn't tell him to keep away from you entirely,” she teases, narrowing her eyes at Loki and squeezing Thor's hand before going back to the scroll she was reading.

Thor takes Loki home and lays him carefully in bed.

Loki can see that Thor is still shaken, so he decides to trick him into seeking comfort by pretending to need some for himself. He rolls away onto his side and adjusts his legs with his hands when they won't cooperate. He hears Thor make a pained sound behind him at the sight of it.

“Hold me a moment, won't you, darling?” Loki murmurs, and then Thor is wrapped around him, burying his face in Loki's hair. Loki takes Thor's hand and splays Thor's fingers over his stomach.

“We're well, love,” Loki whispers, and Thor quakes with tears. “Sorry I gave you such a fright.”

He lets Thor cry his nerves away into the back of his neck until the pretty thing is exhausted and then they nap for an hour.

When they wake, Loki asks Thor to give him a bath. It calms Thor to have something to plan, something to do.

Afterward, Thor fetches breakfast and they eat it in bed over a towel spread out like a tablecloth.

When they've finished feasting, Loki takes a deep breath.

“Would you like me to tell you about them?” he asks, and Thor looks puzzled.

Loki pats his stomach in answer and Thor nods rapidly. Loki lifts his right arm in invitation. Thor tucks himself into Loki's side, resting his head on his breast and a hand on his belly.

“This one,” Loki says, pointing to the front of his abdomen, “moves often and lightly, while this one,” he points to the back, “moves rarely, but with such force it pushes the piss from me.”

Thor looks up and raises his eyebrows.

“I charmed the sheets,” Loki admits, frowning, and Thor huffs a laugh.

“They're very nearly nocturnal, which is why I never bother trying to sleep before midnight. They know your voice. They squirm when they hear it. Walking puts them to sleep, so I'll have to come up with something else now. Perhaps I can rock back and forth.”

“I can carry you,” Thor offers, and Loki kisses him, tasting bread and grapes.

After that, Loki joins Thor in singing and talking to the babes in his belly. They're far enough along now that they can be cut out of him if necessary, which eases his mind, however odd that may be.

Thor carries him everywhere, even to the lavatory, and it occurs to Loki that the Frost Giants are very generous with each other. His belly is huge. His body is foreign to him.

His breasts come, tender and strange.

Thor stares.

“You can touch them,” Loki laughs. “Very carefully,” he adds.

“They're so soft,” Thor murmurs, tracing the tiny curved mounds with his fingers and cupping them in his hands.

“Aye. And my belly is hard. I thought it would be the other way around.”

Pepper brings him an mp3 player so he can listen to music while he's stuck lying around.

“At least listen to this one,” she says, selecting a song. “Because I'm pretty sure the songwriter wants to make your husband his wife.”

Loki listens to “When My Boy Walks Down the Street,” grinning and giggling and wondering whether the musicians know his brother.

Frigga comes to their cave one morning. They're still snuggled in bed, snoring and drooling. Her laughter wakes them. They rub their eyes and blink at her.

“Thor, get dressed,” she says, and he climbs carefully around Loki to comply.

He wraps Loki in a robe and picks him up and they travel to their healing chamber in the palace. Halldis is waiting for them, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Jul is coming early, Halldis,” Loki teases.

They can hear Odin and Farbauti talking in the hall, which is just as well; Farbauti won't fit in the room, and Loki can do without Odin seeing this. And Thor won't be threatened by them with a door between them.

The first contraction makes Loki grunt. His mother smirks at him.

“Mother, did you come here to gloat?”

“A bit,” she breezes.

“That's hardly fair. I never put you through the pains of childbirth.”

“I have a list of the things you've put me through, boy of mine, and you're getting off easy,” she says, and he can't argue with her.

Thor and Halldis are conspiring and clutching at each other excitedly. Loki sighs and rolls his eyes.

After six hours, Loki is convinced the contractions won't end until The Tree falls and that they are to serve as punishment for his many sins.

As the first baby crowns Loki's face twists in pain and tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Thor asks.

“Of course it hurts, you idiot! I'm pushing a babe the size of your arm through a passage the size of your prick-”

“Loki!” Thor yelps, for his mother and Halldis are right beside him.

“Oh, by the nine, brother, don't be prudish now,” Loki grunts. “It's not as though they don't know how the babes got in there in the first place.”

Thor blushes, but he's grinning. Halldis and Frigga are laughing at them.

Loki grunts and bears down.

And suddenly there's crying and Frigga is saying, “A boy!” And there's more pushing, and still more crying, and another call from Frigga of, “A boy!” And then Loki has a baby at each breast and husband at his side and he can't shake the feeling that Yggdrasil has just inverted itself somehow.

He can hear Odin and Farbauti clinking tankards together in the hall. They're peeking in the door. Farbauti is sitting cross-legged on the floor and Odin is standing beside him. They raise their ale to Loki and wave Thor over to have a glass with them.

“Drink one for me, damn you,” Loki calls.

Loki looks at the babes, counting fingers and toes and turning their exhausted little bodies over in his hands. And then he cries out.

“What's wrong?” Thor asks, rushing over.

“They've got no quims,” Loki says, weeping.

“Shhh,” Thor soothes, brushing Loki's hair back where it clings to his forehead and then pulling it up off of his neck, twisting it to the side. “I manage well enough without one.”

“I know,” Loki murmurs. “But it's such a pleasure, brother. And they can never know it.”

“They'll find what they need,” Thor says, kissing him.

They stay in the healing chambers. Thor holds their sons so that Loki can sleep. He sits, grinning and rocking them and resisting the urge to wake them. He's only just beginning to realize how long he has wanted this. He wants to take them to see the realms. Take them home to the mountain. Take them up with Mjolnir. But they're soft and sleepy, skulls and faces still squished from their trip through the birth canal. Thor will content himself with staring at them, and breathing them in, and smiling so hard his cheeks ache with it.

Loki has a nightmare in which the babies have horrible bruises on their heads and fall from balconies. Odin comes in the next morning to tell them he put a sturdy door with high locks and several enchantments on the entrance to their cave. And he added a nursery.

Loki doesn't have the nightmare again.

It's two weeks before Loki is able to walk properly and they can return to the mountain. The boys' room is past their bed on the right beyond the closet. There's a wide crib in it and a rug as thick and dense as grass on the floor. Loki laughs, realizing it's there to cushion the blow if they drop the babies. They never do, but Loki finds it amusing all the same. And reassuring.

Loki eats and eats, but only the babies get fat, flapping their arms happily and panting when the dark dots of Loki's nipples are in their sight. Their undeniable delight in nursing fills Loki with joy, even when their cries drag him kicking and screaming from the soft embrace of sleep. Thor feels guilty that he can't nurse them in Loki's stead so that his brother can rest. Loki looks exhausted. It twists something in Thor.

Thor visits Midgard to ask Stark if he has a solution. He finds Pepper first. She tells him about breast pumps and they go out to pick one up straight away, grabbing glass bottles and latex nipples to serve the milk.

Frigga had warned Loki that he'd feel low after giving birth. Exhausted and bereft. And he does, but knowing it's normal softens the blow. Still, he reaches for the fullness of his belly and his hand cups only air. It startles him every time.

He feels owned by these tiny helpless creatures. Forever in their debt. But he has a clean slate with them. They love him without question. Somehow, it makes Thor's love shine brighter. Thor could have anyone, Loki thinks. He knows all my faults and deeds, and he's here anyway.

He watches as Thor opens a diaper and gets spritzed with piss for his trouble. The pretty blond god just laughs.

Fool, Loki thinks, grateful.

 


End file.
